


The Dragon's Gold

by EldritchMage



Series: Kili and Tauriel [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Beorn's House, Can Tauriel act like an air head?, Consensual Sex, Dwarf/Elf babies are adorable, Evil dragon gold, F/M, Giriel likes to swear in Black Speech, Hobbit - AU, Kili and Tauriel have a fight, Kili can swear in four languages, Kili isn't a king but an ambassador to Imladris, King Thranduil gets a lesson in heart, Life after Erebor for Kili and Tauriel, Long magical back story that maybe Kili can resolve with help from two Elvish kingdoms, Lord Elrond is a good teacher and mentor but can still get his hands dirty, Magical Artifacts, Magical necklaces are dangerous, Mirkwood is a horrible place, Orcish Swearing, Psychologically demented Elvish villain, Tethrandil is one wise Elf, Woodland Realm, horrible enchanted river denizens, kiliel - Freeform, magical mystery sleuthing, the best part of fighting is making up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-04-08 06:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 54
Words: 256,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4293666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchMage/pseuds/EldritchMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to Part 4 of my Kili and Tauriel series. This tale immediately follows the events told in Part 3, "Innikh De."</p><p>Kili and Tauriel have returned to Imladris after their long journey to the Blue Mountains. As Dis and Lord Elrond work out the details of the Dwarves' emigration to Erebor via Imladris, Kili wrestles with what it means to be Imladris's "ambassador at large for all things Dwarvish." For the moment, it means he must wade through Lindir's unending and confusing paperwork. When the paper piles too high, Kili and Tauriel distract themselves for the afternoon, but their lighthearted excursion through one of the city's oldest ruins brings a long forgotten relic to light with dire consequences. Even Lord Elrond may not possess the knowledge needed to keep his kin safe from this poison.</p><p>In the Woodland Realm, another Elf lord may have the knowledge, but it won't be easy to persuade him to share it. Neither Kili nor Tauriel can say they parted on good terms from King Thranduil, and it's no guarantee that even the High Lord of Imladris can persuade him to listen. All they can do is try, and hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all!
> 
> This chapter has a little of everything we like best -- hints of events from long ago, a burbling babe, a little sex, a little banter, and a little peril. And Giriel. And Kili swearing.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

_The thief bided his time. Dragons were not creatures to rush or provoke. This one was young, still growing, and would hunger soon enough. Spring lamb would be a welcome tonic, warm blood and tender meat to banish the winter’s fast and the curse of snow and cold._

_The thief was nimble, had food for a month, and was hunkered down in a safe vantage point less than a hundred yards from the entrance to the dragon’s den. It was barely a cave; better to call it a hole in the same mountainside that sheltered the young dragon. The best that could be said about it was that it had no fissures to carry his scent to the dragon. But he was willing to put up with the small quarters for a chance to pilfer the dragon’s hoard when it emerged to slake its hunger. He wouldn’t have long, given the youth of the beast, but he wasn’t looking to make himself a king. Enough of the dragon’s gold to buy a few luxuries for the next year was all he sought. If he needed more, he’d come back next spring._

_In a week, the mouth of the dragon’s den smoked. The beast within had woken._

_In two days, the ground rumbled. The beast within had stirred._

_In one day, rocks rolled constantly down the slope, and the thief stayed in his hole to save his head._

_In one hour, the rumble was not the ground moving, but the dragon slithering out to sniff the air. Green scales rippled with iridescence in the sunlight as the beast stretched after its long rest. It was only the height of a house at the shoulder, still agile and lithe. It took to the air with barely a hop and soared east._

_The thief scrabbled out of his hole as soon as the dragon was behind the mountain. He ran for the mouth of the den and plunged inside. When the sunlight faded behind him, he paused only long enough to light a torch, then resumed his headlong run._

_He fell into the dragon’s hoard much sooner than he expected. This was no youngling’s scratchings gathered in a few years – this was the accumulation of centuries. It must have belonged to a far older dragon who had died or been slain, and this youngling had claimed it for its own. The thief didn’t think about this for long – he had his gold to take, then his life to save. He scrambled over the hoard to the dragon’s bed, crammed a sack full of gold coins, retraced his steps, and fled west._

_The thief was some miles away when the dragon flew back at his leisure and alit before the mouth of his den. He sniffed, snorting when he smelled burned pitch and wood smoke, then snarling when he smelled the scent that lingered under the smoke. The stench emanated from his den, drawing his snarl of fury, and he slithered back atop his hoard, searching for the thief who had dared disturb it. His comfortable bed had been trampled – invaded – pilfered! He roared in fury, but his fire was at low ebb after chasing down the end to his winter fast, and he was too full of spring lamb to fly far. He grumbled, but he was not yet old enough to muster strength so soon after waking to chase the thief down. He lashed his tail, stamped the gold until he felt better, and plunked himself down to nurse his ill humor._

_The thief would feel his fury soon enough, he vowed – and fell asleep cursing the stink of Elves._

* *

 

Kíli was swearing. Not under his breath, but loudly. With feeling. In foulest Black Speech.

As a rule, this did not disturb me. My husband was a master of curses in four languages. He prided himself on his depth of knowledge of these words, diligently acquired over more than sixty years as an itinerant smith, warrior, caravan guard, and drover. These days, he was still a smith and warrior, but no longer itinerant. Through the greatest good fortune, he and I lived in Lord Elrond’s ethereal city of Imladris. We had a beautiful daughter, Míriel, many friends, and a warm and cozy home. Both of us proudly served on the guard for the city, and I was also one of the guard strategists and captains.

Kíli had recently been given additional duties – “ambassador at large for all things Dwarvish,” as Lord Elrond had pronounced him. Almost two years ago, Bard, the bowman of the Men of Laketown, had slain Smaug the Terrible, and Thorin Oakenshield had reclaimed Erebor. Long ago, at the coming of the dragon, Thorin’s folk had fled Erebor, forced from their rich kingdom into a life of wandering poverty. Many Dwarves had eventually settled far to the west in the Blue Mountains, but now many planned to return back to their reclaimed city. It was six hundred miles from the Blue Mountains to Imladris, and another three hundred more to Erebor. So Lord Elrond had extended the hand of friendship to the Dwarves, offering the city as a haven along their emigration, where they could rest and regroup before forging on over the Misty Mountains, through the forest of Mirkwood, and on to Erebor.

At times, Dwarves and some Elvish lines have not shared the best relations. This was especially true of Dwarves and the Elves of the Woodland Realm, of which I am one by birth; bad behavior on both sides had opened a rift long ago, and would not ease without patience and effort. The Elves of Imladris had no part in this feud, and indeed had no link to the Elves of the Woodland Realm. Still, Dwarves raised on a steady diet of stories about the evils of the Eldar rarely distinguished between one Elvish line and another. It would take work on the part of the Dwarves who governed the emigrants as well as certain representatives in Imladris to do what they could to ease this tension, so that when the emigrants finally reached Erebor, they were a little softened in their attitudes. This was needed to keep friction on the eastern border of Imladris to a minimum, as Thranduil, king of the Woodland Elves, was far pricklier to deal with than Lord Elrond.

The Blue Mountain counselor who would begin the softening process was Dís. She was Kíli’s mother, and sister to Thorin Oakenshield, heir to the throne of Erebor. Kíli, then, was a crown prince of the Line of Durin. With the death of his uncle and older brother, Fíli, in the fight to reclaim Erebor, he would have been the new king. But several twists of fate had given him other choices, so he had let his folk think him dead with his uncle and brother, which left the throne to Thorin’s cousin, Dain Ironfoot. Kíli would stay in Imladris to continue what his mother started to ease the Dwarves’ path to their reclaimed home.

I suspected something about Kíli’s new duties was what drew his ire. When I heard Lindir figuring prominently in his curses, I knew it.

I shut our front door behind me, and shook the raindrops off my hood before I took off my coat and hung it in the front hall. I exchanged my boots for slippers, and followed the sound of Kíli’s curses to our cozy sitting room.

Kíli was slumped in his favorite chair, scrolls and parchments scattered around him. He held a long treatise in one hand, and rubbed his temple with the other. Our daughter Míriel played on the rug beside him, surrounded by her toys. She was six months old, and happily tussling with her two favorite toys, a very bedraggled ball that made a chiming noise, and a small Dwarfling doll with an embroidered blue dress and brown braids. She rolled off her back and on top of the doll, the squeaky ball clutched in one hand to bang it on the rug. When she saw me, she laughed gleefully.

“Have you won another tussle with Troli’s doll?” I asked her, my arms akimbo. “You are far happier about it than your father is about his reading.”

Kíli growled under his breath. His curse was a particularly heartfelt one. I didn’t know what the words meant, but clearly he was more than mildly irritated. I knelt by the side of his chair to kiss his cheek.

“My sweet _a’maelamin_ , what has urged you to such language this early in the day? It’s barely time for luncheon.”

Kíli dropped the document on the floor beside him. “There are times, _amrâlimê_ , that I think being ‘Imladris’s ambassador at large for all things Dwarvish’ is no better than being king of Erebor. There is too much stinking paper involved in both of them!”

“Did I hear Lindir’s name when I came through the door?” I asked, insinuating my hand under Kíli’s hair to rub his neck. He visibly relaxed at that, his brow losing its furrows and his eyes calming their exasperated glare.

“That priss is going to kill me, if I don’t kill him first,” Kíli growled, but without quite so much heat. “We’ve been just home two weeks. You’re back in the captain’s meetings, and we’re both back on the guard. _Maamr_ won’t finish working out the details of the agreement with Lord Elrond for another week or so. She’ll leave for the Blue Mountains no later than a week after that, so that she gets back to Thorin’s Halls before the snows start. That means we won’t see the first batch of Dwarves on their way to Erebor until next spring, six or seven months from now, probably longer. So I’ve got two unencumbered weeks to work on something at the forge for _Maamr_ to take back with her, or so I think. Then Lindir drags me into all this – this – this fucking paper! To hear him tell it, Middle Earth doesn’t move but something has to be written down about it, and it’s all got to be done right this moment. I can’t get down to the forge, or think about what we need to do for the Dwarves, because of all this fucking paper. That Elf is a menace!”

I smothered a smile. Lindir was Lord Elrond’s aide. He was a decent sort, if overly fussy, and a lover of extreme organization, much of it self-generated. Still, Imladris was better off for his organization and care of the business that kept the city well supplied with the essentials of living. He took the welter of details extremely seriously, was anxious unless everything was properly added up and cross-referenced, and preferred to work quietly behind the scenes. Those preferences, among many other reasons, had been a deciding factor to make Kíli an ambassador, for as efficient as Lindir was, he had no ability to deal head on with the raucousness of Dwarves. Kíli did... but perhaps the raucousness that could be Kíli didn’t have the patience to deal with Lindir’s love of precision.

“I take it that all this paper is Lindir’s doing?” I asked.

“This isn’t all of it.” Kíli moaned, but because my fingers massaged the mane that grew down his neck to his shoulder blades. “It’s only half of it. This is all I could cart home with me without a barrow. Mmm. Oh, Tauriel, how am I supposed to keep up a justified anger when you do that?”

“I can’t imagine,” I grinned. “And what is this half of all the paper?”

“I hardly know,” Kíli groaned, but this time frustration colored his voice, not his savoring of my caresses. He picked up the tome he’d tossed aside. “You know our Lindir, efficient and administering to the end. Take this one – it’s a list of all the inns in Imladris.” He took up another one. “This is a list of all the sellers who bring in ale to the inns. This other one is a list of all the inns in Imladris who have paid their taxes. This other one is a list of those who haven’t. This one is a list of all the ale sellers who have paid their taxes. This one is a list of ale sellers who also sell wine. This one is a list of innkeepers who also have side businesses. And this one, I don’t bloody well know what it’s a list of. The more I read of these, the more confused I get. I don’t even know why he foisted them on me. We can’t set about anything for the Dwarves until _Maamr_ and Lord Elrond finish their agreement. So what does Lindir expect me to do with them?”

Kíli tossed the last list aside. It drifted down on top of Míriel, who burbled in delight at this new toy. I hastened to take it away before she gummed it or tore it, which would not please Lindir.

“I don’t know,” I ventured. “What did he say to you when he gave them to you?”

Kíli spread his hands. “He did that rushing-about-his-study thing, pulling out this paper and that parchment, stacked them all very neatly in a pile, gave me this big smile, and said they were mine for as long as I needed to look at them.”

“Perhaps this is the way he takes on something new, and thinks you would do the same. He inundates himself with all of this because it makes him feel comfortable. Everything is in tidy lists. Not nearly so messy as feasting Dwarves.”

Kíli finally smiled, recalling the feast Lord Elrond had given for the Dwarves when we’d returned to Imladris two weeks ago. It had resulted in cake-throwing, a time-honored activity of Dwarves at feasts to show both support and ridicule, often at the same time. Lindir had been too flummoxed to know how stop it, so Kíli had set about it, and in short order, the cake-throwing was no more. My suspicion was that Kíli’s success at this had had large part to do with his becoming ambassador, for Lindir was so clearly at a loss for how to deal with such rambunctious folk. With all the Dwarves we expected to see over then next several years, such scenes would be common, and Elves were unprepared to handle them with Kíli’s efficiency.

“Truth,” Kíli conceded. A surreptitious grin of mischief showed his improving mood. “Not nearly so much fun, either.”

I do not think Lindir’s idea of fun includes banging Dwarves over the head with cake platters and cursing, _a’maelamin_.”

“No, but mine does,” Kíli snickered. “It got me this job, didn’t it? And out of Erebor.”

“And into the paper.”

He tsked and waved a hand. “Lindir’s paper. I’ll bet he takes the stuff home at night to read himself to sleep. I find it a right bore. I’m going to pack the lot of it back to him and not think about it until _Maamr_ and Lord Elrond get their bits straight. Once they do, I’ll figure out what it all means.”

He leaned over to kiss me, his smile finally waxing to its usual sunniness. “You’re home early. How was your captain’s meeting?”

“Nothing untoward. We’ll continue our sweeps of the plain. No signs of Orcs since our trouble last winter, but we prefer to keep things that way, especially if we’re to get so many emigrants starting next year.”

Kíli hummed as he heaved himself out of his chair, offering me a hand up. “I’ll stack up all of Lindir’s precious papers, then we can have an early luncheon. Then I wonder if I can persuade you to play the truant this afternoon?”

The intent cast in Kíli’s eyes left no doubt as to what he wanted to do this afternoon, but I pretended to frown and look mystified. “To what purpose?”

He climbed up to stand in his chair so that he was taller than me, and pulled me close for a kiss. “All this paper has given me the worst urge to misbehave, _amrâlimê_ , and who better to misbehave with than my beautiful Elf warrior maid? But after that, I do have something else in mind.”

Kissing him back, I wrapped my arms around him to hug him close. I wound my hands in his mane to encourage his attentions, and felt his body warm as my touches aroused him. His lips roved across my cheek to nibble at the marriage ring in my ear, drawing my hum of enjoyment. Then he tensed, and his hands grabbed my shoulders.

“Tauriel, look!” he hissed, turning me away from him. “Look at Miri!”

Míriel had tired of tussling with her doll, and had rolled over on her stomach to view the world. Her legs tucked underneath her, and her arms pushed up, and she rocked on her knees, not sure what to do next. Kíli and I broke our embrace to get down on the floor with her.

“Come on, Miri!” Kíli encouraged, crouching down in front of her. “You’ve almost got it, little one!”

“Look at you!” I echoed, on my knees beside Kíli. When I took up Troli's doll to make it dance, Míriel burbled and tried to reach for it. “Come on, Míriel! Come to _Mamil_ and _Atto_.”

Kíli squeaked Míriel’s ball at her. “Come on, Miri. Crawl to _Maamr_ and _Taad_. Come on!”

For a long moment, Míriel considered her legs, but when she reached for her toys, she leaned so far forward that one leg had to come with her. She got the most surprised look on her face, and reached with the other hand, and before we had a chance to cheer, Míriel got her arms and legs in the right sequence, and she crawled right to us. We met her with loud acclaim, gathering her up for laughs and kisses and pats on the back. She looked quite satisfied with herself, and cooed accordingly.

“Life just changed, you understand,” Kíli cast a look at me. “She’s not a lump any more, and nothing in the house is safe.”

“Still, it is very exciting. Isn’t it, Míriel?” I gave her a kiss. “No more gowns for you. You need more leggings and tiny socks.”

Kíli rolled his eyes. “Tiny socks to go with Lindir’s papers. The sitting room won’t recover for years.” He took Míriel from my shoulder and put her back on the rug. “Can you crawl all the way to the kitchen, Miri? It’s time for luncheon.”

He slid backwards towards the door, squeaking a question at her. Míriel sorted herself out again, and followed him with enthusiasm. He fell in beside her, so I crawled to her other side, and we proceeded down the hall to the kitchen. She stopped at that point, evidently deciding that enough was enough, and it would not do to wear out such a good trick so fast. I gathered her up, carried her into the kitchen, and popped her into the contrivance Kíli had cobbled together that allowed her to sit in a chair without falling out. It was a great convenience, for it gave her a clear view of everything without letting her get into something she shouldn’t. It was a hastily made contraption, for soon after we’d arrived home, Míriel had been sitting on the table in her basket as she usually did, but managed to wriggle herself out and onto the table, upsetting my salad bowl and a dish of hot, cooked peas. The mess had been considerable, and had taken Kíli, his mother, and me to clean it up before she spread it too far.

“ _Maamr’s_ going to be delighted to see Miri’s new trick,” Kíli said, as if he’d heard my thoughts. “I’ll warn you now, _amrâlimê_ – as soon as _Maamr_ sees her crawling, she’ll tell you all sort of wild tales of what Fíli and I used to get into.”

“Will they be true stories, or wild exaggeration?”

Kíli’s mischievous smile was back. “Wild... true stories, mostly. We were a handful and a half, both of us. What would you like for luncheon?”

“Salad, of course. Are you going to have soup, or something cold?”

“The soup sounds good. Something warm against the rain, for all it’s a summer rain. It’ll help me gird my loins for the afternoon’s endeavors.”

He looked me up and down as he said that, so I knew what the first part of the afternoon’s endeavors would entail. “Then add some for me, so that I can meet your endeavors with my own. You said something about other endeavors, too?”

“I did. It came to me while I was trying to sort all of Lindir’s papers. Dealing with them is like looking through a lot of nothing for something, so I thought how we needed to look for a present for Drennal and Fallin’s marriage day. I found a whole three blocks of the most amazing houses yesterday when I was heading for the forge. We’ve never been through anything like them before. I thought we might find something different in one of them, if we can find someone to watch Míriel for an hour or two.”

Imladris was an old city, and much of it was empty. So many Elves had chosen to sail west to the Undying Lands that whole stretches of streets throughout the city had been empty for uncounted years. When Kíli and I had first been granted asylum, Lord Elrond had given us permission first to choose a house for ourselves, and then to search any of the abandoned ones for furnishings. We had acquired the most exquisite furniture, crockery, linens, and clothing to be had anywhere just by looking in the abandoned houses. Our house was mostly furnished now, but it was still one of our favorite pastimes to wander in and out of the beautiful houses when we had time. Several featured murals and stonework that were worth looking at for their own merits.

“We can ask Giriel,” I suggested. “She’s still hobbling too much to go back on full duty yet, and she’s not on half duty today.”

“I hope so,” Kíli said, putting the soup pot on the stove. “I want you to see these houses, Tauriel. They’re beautiful.”

We had our soup and greens, and Kíli ate a lot of bread and cheese with them. The appetite of Dwarves still amazed me. He offered to clean up while I went to see Giriel about watching Míriel, so I set out to find her. She and Rhiannel shared the house directly across the courtyard from ours.

“The door’s open!” came the reply to my knock, so I let myself in. The hallway was a clutter of armor and boots and half a dozen other things. Giriel was not the neatest of Elves, but she was generally better than this at stowing her things. But she had been badly injured at the end of our long journey to the Blue Mountains and back, and still hobbled. In fact, she limped into the hallway from another room, a jar of something in her hand.

“Tauriel!” she greeted me with a wide grin. “Please, tell me that you’ve come to save me from cleaning all this armor. I’ve done about half of it, and I’d love to have an excuse to leave the rest for another day.”

We exchanged glad hugs, and I gave Giriel a hand down onto the bench, then sat beside her. The litter wasn’t disarray, now that I looked at it. She’d been polishing and cleaning the various pieces, and checking that the fastenings still held.

“Today must be the day for unpleasant chores,” I laughed. “Kíli’s been mired in our sitting room all morning, trying to make sense of this immense stack of Lindir’s papers. I don’t think he quite knows what to do with it all.”

Giriel snickered. “Poor Kíli. Lindir and his papers are so close that it’s been a joke for two hundred years.”

“He’s very... efficient,” I offered in defense.

“He’s very mired in the lot,” Giriel scoffed. “Still, he’s good at it, and better him than me. I can’t wait to get back on full duty. I miss my horse.”

“You miss racing around on your horse,” I countered, laughing.

“Truth,” Giriel agreed, unabashed. “So have you come to save me from polishing armor?”

“Only if you prefer to watch a babe for an hour or two. Kíli and I want to look for a marriage gift for Fallin and Drennal, and carrying Míriel into abandoned houses isn’t wise.”

“Play with Míriel? That would be a delight. Here, help me hang all of this up.”

She knelt beside the armor to pass it to me so I could place it on its various hooks and hangers. “I warn you, though. She has just learned how to crawl.”

“No! I missed it?”

“Not much of it. She just did it for the first time right before luncheon.”

“So she’ll need lots of practice this afternoon so she can impress her grandmother this eve,” Giriel chortled. “Good. A crawl is the fastest speed I can make.”

“How goes the recovery, then?”

Giriel snorted more as Kíli would than an Elf. “Apothecaries. They save us so they may kill us with their cures. The muscle has knit, but is stiff, so I endure the most annoying of massages and stretches and twists twice a day. It does help, I know that. But so do a lot of Kíli’s favorite expressions when that apothecary digs his fingers into the scar and pretends I am a lump of bread dough. I am surprised that you haven’t heard me yell at him.”

“Today, Kíli probably drowns you out,” I admitted. “There, everything is hung up. Where do the boots go?”

“Underneath the bench. Side by side, if you want to be neat about it. If not, just toss them under as catch can. When can I have Míriel over to play?”

I arranged them side by side, drawing Giriel to roll her eyes. “In a few moments? Is that too soon?”

“Of course not. I will put away the polish, and then be ready.”

“You take yourself to your sitting room. I’ll put away the polish. Where does it go?”

“Second shelf in the storage room next to the necessary. You will see the cleaning rags.”

“Can I get you anything before I bring Míriel over?”

“I have had luncheon already, so I am ready for visitors.”

“Then I will fetch the babe.”

I got Míriel, her bag of essentials, and her two favorite toys, and took the lot over to Giriel’s. When I came back, Kíli was carefully stacking Lindir’s papers out of the way in the sitting room. I took advantage of his hands being full to press him between me and the back of his chair, bending to kiss his ear and run my hands around his ribs to meet at his sternum. “The house, my sweet _a’maelamin_ , is empty but for the two of us. No mother, and no babe. Just me and my favorite dark Dwarf, who has made the fatal mistake of turning his back to me.”

“You,” he breathed, eyes shut as I stroked his chest, then lower, “are the most ruthless of maids. Stop it, Tauriel, or you’ll have me right here before I ever get my clothes off.”

I grinned and kissed his ear. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Growling, Kíli dumped the lot of papers into the chair, pushed away from the cushion, and grabbed me in his arms to drape me over his shoulder. We were both laughing as he carried me into our bedroom, upended me on the bed, and climbed in after me to kiss me thoroughly. My arms went around his neck to properly savor the embrace, then I ran my fingers through his mane until he shut his eyes and hummed in pleasure. When he opened his eyes, it was to look down at his unfastened tunic and the unlaced undertunic beneath it, hie eyes widening in anticipation.

“I thought Elves were supposed to be disinterested in the pleasures of the bed chamber,” he teased.

“The Elves of Imladris, perhaps,” I bantered. “Not selected Elves from the Woodland Realm.”

“Then I am the most fortunate of Dwarves,” he breathed, arming his way out of his tunic. He yanked his undertunic over his head, kicked his house boots off, and stripped off his trews and smalls. He was the most alluring of sights, perched naked atop me, his hair disarrayed and in his bright eyes as he unfastened my tunic. He didn’t bother to strip it off, preferring to nuzzle it aside until he could kiss my throat, my sternum, my nipples. When I gasped at how good his lips felt, he chortled and doubled his attentions until I shoved him off so I could sit up to work laces and fastenings free. He insinuated himself behind me, rubbing his chest against my back, his hands roving over me, laughing when he distracted me so much that I fumbled to pull off leggings and underthings.

“Need help?” he teased, as I finally slithered out of my leggings. “Or would you prefer me to pillage you with what’s left of your clothes on?”

When I finally yanked the last undergarment down over my hips and kicked it off, I pulled Kíli into my lap to kiss hard. He didn’t resist me slipping atop him, then gloving him. “Would you rather I take you in mere seconds, or let you linger?”

“If you take me that fast,” he warned, “I’ll need seconds.”

“Done.” I tightened around him in the slow rhythm that he had never learned to resist. He knew he was doomed, so gave me what I wanted, which was to wring every second of pleasure out of his rising until it consumed him. He arched back against the sheet as the sensation built, his hands roving over me to caress and tease. I slowed until Kíli had brought me as close as I had him, and then we rose together to sail high over the moon.

I curled over him as the sweetness faded, and his hands stroked my bare back in the long, languorous strokes that I loved. In time, I slid aside to lie next to him, my head on his shoulder, my arm across his chest.

Kíli exhaled, a long and satisfied sound, and rubbed my arm. But before long, he reversed our positions, nuzzling my neck and stroking my hair. Before long, he was sliding atop me, kneeling between my legs to stroke shoulders, collarbone, sternum, ribs, hips. His hands were strong from all his work at the forge, but they were also capable of the most delicate touches, sensing where my most sensitive spots were that required more attention. Before long, he slid inside me, still massaging, still kissing, until I rose again. He drank it all in, as I did, for both of us found watching the other’s pleasure to be as arousing as the acts themselves. If our first rising flamed brightly and swiftly, then this one was deeper and lasted longer.

Kíli laid his head on my sternum and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. When I tangled my fingers in his hair to scrub his mane, he rumbled in contentment.

“You make me the happiest Dwarf in Imladris,” he said dreamily.

“You are the only Dwarf in Imladris, _a’maelamin_.”

“You make me the happiest Dwarf in all of Middle Earth, then,” he replied. “Perhaps I shouldn’t say that. I wouldn’t want you to think you can lord it over me.”

“I would never think that.”

He looked up at me. “You wouldn’t?”

I shook my head solemnly. “Your attentions are far too delightful for me to ever want to subjugate them. I prefer my Dwarvish lads irrepressible and unrestrained.”

He gave me that crooked grin that was half gleeful scamp, half alluring tempter. “That’s funny. I prefer my Elf maids the same way.”

I chuckled. “Then we are both well pleased this afternoon.”

“So we are, _amrâlimê_.”

We lay together for a few more moments, savoring our closeness, then rose to wash briefly and resume our clothes for our foray.

The rain had stopped, so we ventured outside hand in hand. We made our way leisurely, each of us bearing a basket in case we found something worthy of a wedding present. The houses Kíli had scouted were some distance away, and in one of the oldest sections of the city. It looked to have been abandoned so long ago that many of the houses were tumbling down. Kíli was right about their beauty, but it was a sad sort, of once marvelous structures slowly crumbling back into the rock they came from.

At first, we merely wandered up and down the street, looking at the facades and monuments. Then we ventured inside the first of the block. Inside, little remained of furnishings, for the fabrics had long since disintegrated, and even much of the wood had crumbled into dust. But frescoes and reliefs still remained, looking most as new as when they had been painted and sculpted, and they were lovely. Again, that loveliness had a deep patina of sadness given the ruins around it. Outside, even the air seemed quieter, as if this were a city of the departed. It was, for its residents had long since sailed to the Undying Lands.

We went inside a house in the middle of the second block, a grand affair with a central dome rather than a peaked roof. Inside, the great room under the dome was still light and airy, if dusty. The carved wood paneling of the curved walls was worm eaten into lace and powder, but the image of the trees it had once been carved to mimic was still visible, if only as a pale ghost. It was a pale wood, once the color of honey. I imagined how the room might have looked long ago with sun splashing through the glass panels in the dome, warming the honeyed wood to a glow.

“Do you notice anything about that wall?” Kíli asked softly, pointing to our left.

“I see the stone and the remnants of the paneling,” I replied. “What else is there to see?”

Kíli cocked his head to one side as he considered the wall. “Just by the tree trunk by the side rib of stone. About halfway up.”

I followed his pointing finger, but saw only the wall. I shook my head. “I see only what I said, Kíli. Do you sense something in the stone that I cannot?”

He went slowly to the wall, stretching out a hand to feel the stone above the crumbling section of paneling. “That must be what it is, then. Something in the stone, behind the wood paneling. About here. I think there’s a hollow.”

I joined him by the wall to touch the paneling. It crumbled into powder at my light touch. We looked at each other, then both of us gently brushed the remnants of the powdery wood away. There, as Kíli suspected, was a gap between the stone blocks that made up the wall. The gap wasn’t empty, though. Kíli bent to look inside, then gingerly edged his hand inside.

“There’s a box, I think. It’s made of metal.” He stooped again to make sure of what was within, then stuck his hand back in with more confidence. He brought out a box a foot wide, half that deep, and perhaps an inch in height. It looked to be made of silver.

“It looks like a jewelry box,” I said. “The design isn’t anything like the marriage box you made me, but there’s a clasp in the same place as you put on mine.”

“So it is,” Kíli nodded, turning the box to and fro, considering it as a smith would. “It’s made of mithril, not silver, and the work is beautifully done. The smith took sheets of mithril, pounded them from the inside into a mold to make the relief designs, soldered the pieces together into the box shape, then finally overlaid the twists on the edges. The designs are Dwarvish, too, not Elvish.”

“How strange,” I said, frowning in surprise. “These are Elvish houses, are they not? Why would a Dwarvish jewelry box be hidden within an Elvish house?”

Kíli nodded his agreement. “There wasn’t any way to get the box out from behind the paneling, either. Someone hid this so that it would be lost until the house was demolished or fell down.”

“Or a Dwarf saw the gap in the stone behind the paneling,” I considered.

Kíli hummed. He ran his fingers over the box, looking for the clasp. “What do you think about opening it? I don’t know anything about Dwarvish magic, much less Elvish arcana. I don’t feel anything odd about the box. Do you?”

I shook my head. “I’m no more learned about magic than you are.”

Kíli cast me a look. “You sensed the doors in King Thranduil’s _Glawar-galad_ , and I didn’t, so you’re at least more sensitive to feeling its presence than I am.”

I shrugged. “Truth. But I don’t feel anything about this box.”

“What if you touch it?”

I stretched out a ginger finger, but felt nothing and said so.

Kíli exhaled. “Well, Fíli always said I was reckless. I say we open it.”

I looked around the domed room. “Perhaps we should outside.”

“Seems reasonable. Come on.”

We took the box outside into the street, and looked at each other. Ever irrepressible, Kíli grinned. “It’s a Dwarvish made box, so would it be better for a Dwarf to open it, or an Elf?”

I smirked. “I have no idea. You open it, then. You found it, after all.”

Kíli nodded. “All right. Move away a bit, in case something happens.”

I stepped back.

“Here I go,” Kíli warned, and pushed on the catch. The hinged lid of the box popped up, and he warily peeked inside. His eyes got round, and not to tease me.

“What is it?” I pressed.

“Oh, Valar, Tauriel, it’s a necklace. A beautiful necklace like sprays of flowers, made of white gems set in green and rose gold. Come look!”

I came forward to look. It was even more beautiful than Kíli had said, an elegant filigree of chaining starflowers with the stems worked in green gold, and the buds in rosy gold. The purest of rare, white gems, and smaller ones of pale pink, were carved and set as the flowers. So beautiful was it, that I was consumed with the deepest, most profound need to make that necklace mine. Nothing else mattered but that I would set that wondrous thing around my neck. I grabbed for it, so surprising the Dwarf who bore it that he dropped the box, spilling the precious necklace into the dust of the street. I cried out, feeling the pain of the jewels as dirt sullied them.

“Tauriel, what is it?” an unknown voice cried, but I didn’t heed it. It sought only to deny me the most precious of jewels, to steal what was rightfully mine.

I drew my knives, and prepared to defend what would be mine now and forever more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Kili and Tauriel have a scare, and Lord Elrond and Dis weigh in on the matter.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

_An uncomfortable prickle nipped the edge of the thief’s thoughts. Again? It was the dragon’s gold. He kept thinking about the dragon’s gold. He didn’t like anything that preoccupied him so much. Neither did he like anything that had a hold over him, especially things he stole._

_What was it he’d heard once about the poison in a dragon’s hoard? It had been decades ago – centuries, likely. Something about the innate nature of a dragon soaking into its hoard? What was it? Valar, what was it..._

_Ah, yes. He remembered now. The dragon’s lust for gold seeped into the gold it lay on. The older the dragon, the longer the gold lay beneath it, and the longer it steeped in the dragon’s lust for its hoard. He’d always dismissed that, for metal was impervious, especially gold, which was pure and incorruptible. But that prickle in his thoughts told him that the hearsay had at least a grain of truth._

_He found jewelers in the next several towns who were more than willing to buy his stolen gold at a good price, for it was of rare quality. He kept quiet about where he’d gotten it, but not a one of the jewelers asked. They were_ that _kind of jeweler. The silver he received in exchange didn’t prey on his thoughts, and made the next two years very comfortable._

_When the silver was gone, he set out to visit the dragon’s mountain again. Halfway to the hoard, the thief was set upon by robbers. He bled to death in the ditch beside the road._

 

* * *

 

The Elf facing me had twin knives in her hands and utmost crazed malice in her eyes. If she’d been anyone else, I would have pulled out my sword and blade biter and had at. But she was my wife, my most precious _amrâlimê_ , and I would no more hurt her than I would cut out my heart. She _was_ my heart and all that was good about me.

Right now, she was no one’s good, and intent on cutting the physical heart out of me without a blink. Something about the necklace had turned her into a demon.

I made a suicidal decision to dive for the necklace and the mithril box, rather than run or draw a weapon. I got the necklace and a kick to the ribs, but not the box. Tauriel was no lightweight, and her kick hurt. I rolled away from her, threw a handful of street dirt at her face, which given the recent rain was more mud than sand, and it splattered into her eyes, giving me a chance to scrabble to my feet. The box lay behind her, so while she was blind I rammed a shoulder into her solar plexus, sending her sprawling into the mud. I dove for the box. Got it! Now to open it – I dug frantic fingers into the clasp, wrestling it open. Tauriel was clawing her way over me, grabbing for the necklace, but I got it into the box and slammed the lid shut. Then I curled around it and hoped that Tauriel wouldn’t stick one of her elegant Elvish knives between my ribs.

Tauriel stilled. No, she didn’t merely stop moving. She froze.

She started to sob as if she were heartbroken, and curled into a knot in the middle of the street with her arms over her head.

I rolled over and sat up, keeping the box behind me. “Tauriel?”

She sobbed harder. Was it because the necklace was back in its box, or because she realized she’d attacked me?

I touched her shoulder with a wary hand. “Tauriel? _Amrâlimê_?”

“Oh, Valar, Kíli, Valar! What did I just do? What did I just do to you? Oh, Valar!”

I got up, got both of Tauriel’s knives, and put them and the box far enough away that Tauriel couldn’t grab them before I sorted this out. Then I knelt beside her and took her in my arms. She clung to me, sobbing as I’d never heard her sob before.

“It’s all right, Tauriel. You didn’t hurt me. We’re muddy, that’s all. Just in need of laundering. Here, let me get the mud off your face.”

I got the worst of the lumps scraped off, though her skin was still smeared more than my fingers could wipe away. Mud was in her hair, too, but I left that alone. Right now, Tauriel needed calming, not cleaning.

“Tell me what happened, Tauriel. When you saw the...”

I let my voice trail off. What if mentioning the necklace brought back her madness? But Tauriel clung to me like her heart was breaking, still sobbing in the most abject misery. I held her close, rubbing her back to calm her. After long, long moments, her fingers tightened on my back, and she choked down her sobs.

“Kíli, I drew my knives on you! I was going to kill you! I can’t bear what I was about to do!”

“I don’t think it was your doing, Tauriel. I don’t. You would never do that to me. I know you wouldn’t. You are my most precious _amrâlimê_ , Tauriel, and something took hold of you. Please, Tauriel, don’t despair. We’ll sort this out. It wasn’t your doing.”

Trying to reassure her, I kept murmuring to her, and rubbing her back in long, calming strokes. Her ribs heaved as if she’d run for miles, but slowly, slowly she calmed.

“There, that’s better, _amrâlimê_. There’s no need to cry. We’re both unhurt. So we have to sort out what happened so we can keep it from happening again. Tell me what happened.”

She sat up with a deep, unsteady breath. If ever I worried if the passing time had lessened Tauriel’s regard for me, one look at her convinced me otherwise. Her face was ashen, deeply shocked, and her hands shook. I took her hands in mine, and drew them to my lips to kiss.

“You’re a captain of Lord Elrond’s guard, Tauriel. And I’m a guardsman. We have to sort out whether what happened is a danger to our home. You’re a better strategist than I am, so think about what happened.”

That sharpened Tauriel’s expression as I’d hoped it would. She took another marshaling breath, her eyes focused, and her body relaxed. She squeezed my hands.

“You held the box. I felt the box myself. Then you opened the box. I felt nothing at any of those points. You described the necklace. I still felt nothing. It wasn’t until I saw it for myself that I felt anything different.”

“What did you feel then?”

Her eyes narrowed as her innate ability to assess a situation finally overruled her emotions. “I wanted it. Like nothing I’ve ever wanted in my life. I had to put it on. It was mine, and I would not be denied. When it fell to the ground, I thought I felt the jewels scream when the dirt touched them. I didn’t know who you were or where I was, but I knew that necklace was mine, and you were a thief, and I was going to kill you to keep that necklace safe. It was mine.”

“But you don’t feel that way now?” I asked cautiously.

Tauriel shook her head immediately. “As soon as it was enclosed in the box, all that faded.” She shuddered. “It was horrible. I don’t ever want to see that thing again.”

“I don’t want you to see it again, either,” I said, trying to make a joke out of it, but this was nothing to joke about. “Strange. When I looked at it, I didn’t feel anything. It was just a piece of jewelry. Beautiful, but nothing to lust over.”

“No reaction at all?”

I shook my head. “I thought the workmanship was exquisite and the gems were pretty, but it didn’t affect me any more than any other piece would a jewel smith.”

“That’s odd.”

“Very. I think we ought to tell Lord Elrond. This is too dangerous to leave lying about for someone else to trip over.”

Tauriel agreed instantly. “I agree, _a’maelamin_. Now, even before we wash.”

I helped her to her feet, and fetched her knives and the box. As Tauriel resheathed her blades, I tucked the box under my arm, and kept a tight grip on it as we hastened to the main part of the city. We made directly for Lord Elrond’s chambers.

As expected, Lindir sat busily scribbling in the high lord’s antechamber. He looked up, his brow wrinkling when he saw the state of our muddy clothes.

“Tauriel! Kíli! What happened to the both of you? Are you hurt?”

“We’re fine, Lindir,” I assured him. “We have to see Lord Elrond right away. We have a matter of grave importance.”

“What is the matter?”

“We do not yet know,” Tauriel replied. “Please, this involves something that might be dangerous.”

Lindir looked askance at us. “Dangerous? Dangerous how? I do not think it is wise to –”

“We’re not joking,” I interrupted him impatiently. “Whatever this thing is, Lindir, Lord Elrond needs to see it so that no one else runs afoul of it. Including you.”

Lindir drew himself up. “I hardly think whatever it is merits an interruption. Lord Elrond is still in council with your mother, Kíli –”

“We don’t know what this is, Lindir,” Tauriel inserted. “I’m sure Lord Elrond appreciates your concern for him and us all, but only he is wise enough to determine what we should do with what we have found. I think Dís would be equally concerned. Now please, would you ask Lord Elrond to see us, before my most treasured husband becomes so distraught that he disorders your papers?”

Lindir didn’t look happy or amused, but he duly knocked on Lord Elrond’s door and let himself in. Tauriel and I exchanged looks, both concerned about the necklace as well as exasperated about Lindir’s tentativeness. But in a moment or two, Lindir reappeared. He stood by the open door, beckoning us in, if with reservations. We hurried inside, Lindir following.

“Tauriel and Kíli,” Lord Elrond rose to meet us, his hands out in greeting. The lord’s eyebrows rose as he took in our muddy clothes. “Lindir says you have a most urgent matter that requires my attention.”

My mother rose as well, her sharp eyes sweeping over us. She came to kiss me, and then Tauriel. “Good morn to both of you. Whatever have you two been doing?”

 Tauriel returned my mother’s kiss, and bowed to Lord Elrond. “We apologize for the interruption, as well as our haste, and our dishevelment. We have had a frightening experience.”

Lord Elrond frowned. “Tell me.”

Tauriel looked to me, so I quickly described how we’d found the box and what’d happened when we’d opened it. On the one hand, Lord Elrond’s growing concern gratified me, but on the other, it worried me just as much. What was this necklace, then?

“Can you describe the necklace in detail?”

“I can do better than that,” I said. “I got a good look at it, so I can draw you a picture if Lindir can spare a sheet of paper and some ink.”

“Of course.” Lindir hastened to bring the needed articles from his desk.

I put the box carefully down in the middle of Lord Elrond’s desk. “With all respect, sir, _Maamr_ , I don’t think anyone should touch it.”

“We won’t,” my mother assured me.

With pen in hand, I sketched the sprays of flowers, keeping one eye on Tauriel as I drew. Would just a picture of the necklace cause her to try to seize it again? No; she remained herself as I drew.

“I don’t recognize it,” Lord Elrond shook his head, but he didn’t dismiss the danger we’d described.

“I should point out a couple of uncomfortable things,” I said. When all eyes were on me, I nodded at the box. “First, that’s a Dwarf-made box. The method of embossing, the mithril, and the way it’s put together tell me that. The necklace design isn’t of Dwarf make, not in my experience. _Maamr_ , do you agree?” As her nod, I went on. “I don’t think the box was made for the necklace, because the necklace doesn’t quite fit inside it. A good smith made that box, and if someone brought a necklace of this quality to have a box made for it, a good smith would take pains to size the box exactly. He’d likely design the box to match the piece, too, and that isn’t the case.”

“I agree,” my mother said, and I smiled at her for supporting me.

“I don’t know if it’s important that the box and the necklace don’t match. Second, I didn’t react to the necklace at all. Not a glimmer of anything. To me, it’s just another piece of jewelry. Beautiful and well made, but nothing I’d lust after. I’m a Dwarf, and Tauriel’s an Elf. I don’t know how to direct a magic thing to one race or another, sir, but maybe you do. And if such a thing is possible, we have to think about it.”

Lord Elrond considered. “Let us try something. Tauriel, we know that you react to the necklace. Lindir, are you willing to see what happens when you look at it?”

Lindir gulped, but he nodded bravely. “I will try.”

“Tauriel, you come stand by me and Dís. Kíli, take up the box, and stand in front of us with your back to us. Lindir, you stand in front of Kíli, by the door.” We all took our places. “Good. Lindir, keep your eyes on the box in Kíli’s hands. Kíli, I ask you to open the box long enough for Lindir to look at the necklace, then close it.”

I looked behind me, at Tauriel, _Maamr_ , and the high lord standing behind the desk, and nodded. Lindir was by the door, looking apprehensive. I didn’t blame him. I got a good grip on the box, and unlatched the clasp. “Ready? I’ll open the box now.”

I lifted the lid, giving Lindir a good look at what was inside. As soon as I saw the same madness cross his face, I slammed the lid down. Just as swiftly, Lindir’s madness faded, and his face flushed with embarrassment.

“I felt just what Tauriel said she did,” he confessed, gulping. “Oh, Valar, it was horrible. I wanted the necklace more than I wanted my life. I’ve never felt such urgency.”

 _Maamr_ stirred. “Then let’s see what happens when I look at it.”

With her usual directness, _Maamr_ came around to face me, waving at Lindir to move beside Tauriel and Lord Elrond. “You’d better go over there.”

Lindir went quickly.

 _Maamr_ gave me a wry look, then nodded at the box. “Let’s see it, then.”

I opened the box, and _Maamr_ looked over the necklace, impressed with its beauty and graceful design, but there was no madness in her eyes.

“The gold’s high quality, both the green and the rose,” I said.

My mother nodded. “Aye, they are. The clasp is well done, too. That’s not Dwarf work, either. It looks Elvish to me, but old, I’d say. The box isn’t as old, I think. What do you think, Kíli?”

“That matches what I think about the necklace as well as the box. One more thing about the box – there’s no lining in it. Dwarves usually put something inside to guard the jewelry from scratches from the box itself. Can you see any sign that it once had a lining?”

 _Maamr_ shook her head. “None that I can see. No threads, no traces of glue that might have fastened one. And you’re right about the necklace not fitting the box. It needs another inch one way or another to keep the two ends from overlapping.”

“The flowers are cascading starflowers, I think.”

“They are. Not a bloom we see in the north. Those need warmer climes than the northern steppes, or Erebor.”

I shut the box, and turned to see Lord Elrond thinking hard. “I think I should have a look at this necklace.”

“My lord,” Lindir began nervously, and for once I thought his apprehension was well merited. “Given that two Elves have already confirmed that something untoward happens when we look at the piece, I do not think it necessary that you do the same.”

Lord Elrond smiled grimly. “Perhaps not. But I will do so, all the same.”

He came around his desk to stand by my mother, and nodded to me.

With a gulp, I said, “Maybe you could stand a little farther away, please? At least to give me a running start.”

Chuckling, the high lord backed away four paces. “At your convenience, Kíli.”

I opened the box.

The lord of Imladris, stood still, gazing at the necklace, but there was no madness in his eyes. He stared at it for some moments, then nodded to me. “Shut the box.”

I slammed it shut with more force than perhaps I needed, and quirked an eyebrow at Lord Elrond.

“You are right about the madness,” he said mildly.

I gaped at my mother, and behind me Tauriel and Lindir exclaimed in surprise. “What? You felt it? But you didn’t – you didn’t...”

“Try to take it?” The lord smiled grimly. “It was a sore trial not to. You are right, Kíli, Tauriel. This is a very dangerous thing. Come; let us sit. Lindir, would you bring us some wine, please?”

The Elf hurried outside to speak to an attendant, and returned to pour glasses of wine from the carafe atop the cabinet beside the door. He handed them around as we all found comfortable seats. In short order, an attendant came in with a plate of fruit and cakes. A nibble was welcome after the afternoon’s developments.

“I can tell you little about the necklace, other than it is made of old dragon’s gold, and has been further altered to enhance its effect. How it comes to affect only Elves and not Dwarves, I do not know. Tauriel, Kíli, you found this in the ruin of a house? Tell me exactly where this house is.”

I did.

“Are there any distinguishing marks that set this house apart from the others?”

“The whole street is beautiful,” I said. “That’s why we went in. There are beautiful things to look at in so many of them; it’s like going to a museum. This house has a central dome over a large room. I haven’t seen many others with a dome like this, not ones that aren’t public structures. The rest of the street is houses, so we thought this one was, too.”

“The stone is pale, and unadorned,” Tauriel added. “The wood paneling supplied all the decoration around the stone. It’s almost gone to dust, but it was once pale wood to match the stone, carved in the shapes of trees.”

Lord Elrond sat with his thoughts for some moments, and the rest of us munched our snacks and sipped our wine, letting him think.

“I remember the lady who kept that house,” he said at long last.

We all exchanged looks. “What do you recall about her?” my mother asked.

“This was many years ago. Perhaps a thousand or more years ago. Her name... it was Alathiel, I think.”

“Was the necklace hers?” I asked.

Lord Elrond shook his head, but in uncertainty rather than denial. “I cannot say. I never saw her with it, understandably. She never spoke of it to me. You said you found it behind the paneling, which speaks of the desire to keep it hidden and inaccessible.”

“Was anyone in the house with her?” _Maamr_ wondered. “A husband, a child, a servant?”

“She had no husband or child,” was the answer. “Nor an aide that I recall.”

Lord Elrond’s pensive look kept all of us from speaking. After a moment, he sipped his wine. “Lady Alathiel had kin in Lorien. She visited several times, much as Arwen is there now to spend time with her grandmother. I seem to recall a rumor of an impending marriage. But it proved not to be so. Yet, I wonder. Soon after those rumors ended, Alathiel’s visits to her kin ceased, and she remained in Imladris.”

“Did she sail?” Lindir asked solemnly.

Lord Elrond shook his head. “She planned to in time, I believe. Unfortunately, she was thrown from her horse on her usual morning ride. Her neck was broken, and she died.”

I winced. Everyday accidents plagued the immortal Eldar just as much as they did the rest of us.

“You said the necklace was made of old dragon gold,” _Maamr_ said, bringing us back to the immediate problem. “I know the old tales about the evil of the drake leaching into the gold it lies on. Are those tales true, then?”

“What tales are these?” Tauriel asked. “I have not heard them before.”

“The Dwarvish tales I heard as a lad said that the fire drakes were evil creatures born through the malice of Melkor,” I explained, my mother nodding in agreement. “Their lust for the gold they hoarded was so strong that it leaked from them and into the gold. The older the dragon, the more the gold was poisoned. Since most dragons worthy of a large hoard are too big and fierce for the average Dwarf, Elf, or Man to kill, the tales didn’t get a lot of testing.”

“The Elvish tales are similar,” Lord Elrond agreed. “Lindir, you are sure to know the tales of which Kíli speaks.”

The aide nodded. “I do. Like your tales, Kíli, the Elvish ones say that though gold is the purest metal and readily takes whatever shape the maker desires, so does it also readily soak up the dragon’s shape, meaning its desires and intent. As the dragon treasures its gold, so the gold lures the unwary into just as intense an attachment.”

“Well summarized,” Lord Elrond said. “To answer your question, then, Dís, the gold from an old hoard does incite a lust in those unfortunate enough to come across it in sufficient quantity. I have known Elves of ambition who had a sorcerer of the black arts fashion an object out of dragon gold for them, which they then used to pit their rivals against one another.”

“And then they step into the breach,” _Maamr_ nodded knowingly. “I’ve heard tell of that, too. My folk have a saying about it – ‘beware gifts from the dragon.’”

Tauriel gulped. “Won’t that cause chaos in Erebor? Smaug was an old dragon.”

 _Maamr_ shook her head. “I don’t think so. He sat on that pile only for a few years, and it wasn’t a dragon’s hoard beforehand. We’ll have to watch out for the gold sickness that plagues the line of Durin, to be sure, but that comes from our own failings, not the presence of the dragon.”

“And it’s been altered to increase the effect it has?” Tauriel shuddered. “It is a fiendish thing from the start without any alterations.”

“That is my belief,” Lord Elrond said. “Though I cannot tell what those alterations might be. I must see what information I can find in our records. Lindir, you are well suited to lead this effort.”

“Yes, my lord,” Lindir beamed. Looking through papers was something he understood, he liked, and was safe. Despite the gravity of our situation, I glanced at Tauriel and smiled.

“Dís, with your leave, let us put aside our concerns for your folk for a short time while we consider this.”

“Of course,” _Maamr_ agreed readily. “I’m glad to help with this in whatever way is useful.”

“We are, too,” Tauriel added, after a look at me.

“Very well. Kíli, I think the safest thing for now is for you and Dís to take charge of the box. If both of you would accompany me to the house where you found this object, I think we should have another look. Tauriel, if you would assist Lindir until the rest of us return, that would hasten our search.”

“I’ll stop by Giriel’s to ask if she can see to Míriel for a bit longer on the way to the house,” I told Tauriel, for she was as mindful of our friend’s injury as I was. "And I'll bring you a clean tunic."

“Then let us be off,” Lord Elrond said, holding his hand out for my mother and me to precede him out of his chambers. I picked up the box carefully, tucked it under my arm again, and escorted _Maamr_ out. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> Kili, Tauriel, Dis, Lord Elrond, and Lindir consider the necklace, and start to gather clues. Lindir is in his element!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the sleuthing.

_The jeweler kept his stolid expression until the thief was gone, then grinned to himself at his good fortune. So what if he didn’t recognize what land had originally minted the coins – the important thing was the purity of the gold, and he knew that to precision. The thief didn’t, for he’d traded the gold for half the silver it was worth. Maybe he’d thought it no purer than the common coinage, no more than three quarters of the whole, when it was the full amount. Purest gold._

_As soon as full dark set in, the jeweler melted the coins into an ingot, cooled it, and secreted it in his private cache. He didn’t need his underlings to know about it, or anyone else._

_* * *_

 

Lord Elrond, my mother, and I walked quickly to Giriel’s house, where we stopped to ask her to keep Míriel a bit longer. Rhiannel was home from afternoon duty, and he and Giriel put Míriel down to show _Maamr_ how her crawling had progressed. They were as proud of my bairn as if she were their own, which in a way she was. Sharing a tent for four months with Giriel and Rhiannel, as well as our friends Fallin and Drennal, had made the six of us an extended family as close as any nomad horse clan. We visited back and forth across the courtyard far more than most Elves did, and when the weather was good we often shared supper around the central fountain, or in one of our gardens.

As usual, Lord Elrond fit into our chatting easily, asking after Giriel’s recovery and Rhiannel’s afternoon duty. He might be high lord of the city, but he knew his folk well, and was approachable as many rulers were not. How he met this business about the necklace Tauriel and I had found was typical – he was not the one to hand things off to those who served him, but stood his duty himself.

I ducked into our house long enough to put on a clean tunic and mop the mud from my face. I took one of Tauriel’s clean tunics to bring her once Lord Elrond had had his look around the domed house, and then we took our leave of Rhiannel, Giriel, and Míriel.

“This is the street,” I said, pointing when we reached the first block. “You can just see the domed house from here. It’s a block farther on.”

Lord Elrond walked a bit ahead of _Maamr_ and me, slowing as he took in the old stonework and crumbling pillars. I drew _Maamr_ aside to show her one of the old murals, but not just to share my delight in its faded beauty.

“I thought only Dwarves suffered from gold sickness,” I murmured lowly in _Khazuduhl_. “Not Elves. Have you heard of such a thing?”

My mother ran an appreciative finger over the carving of a bird that still bore faint traces of blue paint, and answered in kind. “Gold sickness is a Dwarvish curse, of the line of Durin especially, but it affects other Dwarves, too, if not so badly. I’m not aware that it affects Elves at all. Maybe that’s because we Dwarves mine it, refine it, work it, assess it, and handle it in such quantities, over and over again, throughout our lives. It isn’t such a constant presence in the lives of the Elves, even as long as they live. Dragon sickness... clearly, that’s a different matter. I know little about it. But the implications worry me. We didn’t _design_ that necklace...”

I saw the direction of _Maamr’s_ thoughts. “But we might have made it for the designer. If dragon sickness doesn’t affect us, then we’d be the perfect smiths to do so, even without any ken of the black arts. And we did make the box.”

“Maybe the box was meant as protection. It was hidden away, after all.”

“Truth. I’ve heard rumor of mithril’s usefulness in that regard. A sort of insulator. But I haven’t learned to work it yet, so I don’t know the truth behind the rumor.”

My mother sighed and shook her head. “Would that we had Oin here to look at the box and the necklace; he might shed some light. Or Nori; he’s a thief and a rascal, but he knows more history of his plunder than he lets on.”

“Would any of the Dwarves who came with us from the Blue Mountains know?”

“They’re warriors, Kíli, as you know, not miners or smiths. But many of them are older than we are; maybe they’ve heard some tale we haven’t. We should be clear with Lord Elrond about our asking. We could make do without Rivendell in our emigration, but it would be much harder and much more dangerous to our folk, and I’d prefer us to have good relations with this city.”

“So would I, _Maamr_. I’ve been thinking about what comes after Imladris on the journey to Erebor. There are the Beornings’ lands, and Mirkwood. They’re both... prickly, to say the least. We’d be wise to negotiate safe passage through those lands, and Lord Elrond could help us in that. He has a lot more truck with the skin changers and the Woodland Realm than Dwarves do. I don’t want an old plot, if there is one, to sour a new alliance.”

Maamr looked at me suddenly, smiling.

“What?” I asked.

She put her hands on my shoulders and touched her forehead to mine. “When you burst into Lord Elrond’s chamber this morning covered in mud, I thought that nothing had changed since you were a lad. But now I see the lad’s finally beginning to use his noggin. You’ll make a good king yet.”

“No king for me, _Maamr_. Dain runs circles around me, and he will forever. Better let me stay here where I have a chance to be a good secret ambassador, even if I don’t like all the paper it seems to generate.”

“And parchment,” my mother muttered, shaking her head. “The twin dragons of my existence.”

“And mine,” I snickered. “Come on. Lord Elrond’s likely wondering what we’re whispering about, so we ought to tell him.”

“Agreed. Though he seems a lot less... fussy than that aide of his.”

I rolled my eyes and took my mother’s hand to draw her after me. “Any Elf off the street is less fussy than Lindir, _Maamr_. He’s been that way since long before either of us was born.”

We headed after Lord Elrond, who was a few houses ahead of us, and told him the gist of our conversation as we walked farther down the street.

“I appreciate your candor,” the lord replied. “Of course, I would not stop you from asking your folk if they can shed any light on our questions. But I would advise you not to mention the necklace itself. The less awareness of this relic there is among both our folk, the better, until we have a clearer understanding of it.”

“Agreed,” my mother assented. “I’ll ask if anyone knows about dragon sickness. I doubt any of my warriors have much smithing knowledge; Kíli’s likely our best source for that. But I’ll ask. Perhaps you can make the same inquiries of your smiths.”

“Would you ask them about mithril, too?” I added. “I’m not old enough to work it yet, so some of your smiths may be able to tell us if it’s ever been used to contain dangerous relics.”

“So I will,” Lord Elrond agreed. “Now, let us see the domed house.”

I led the way to the house in question. The high lord scanned the façade in a single glance, nodding.

“Yes, this is the house I remembered. It belonged to Alathiel. It was a fair dwelling, a thousand years ago, for a fair lady. The welcome lamps are gone, now, but they sat here, and here, with stone benches beneath them. The door was carved wood, with a sunburst made of glass panes set into it. The flowers overflowed the borders to the right and left, much as they do in the courtyard you and your comrades have made, Kíli. It is a melancholy sight to see it so diminished now.”

After a few moments of reflection, Lord Elrond passed inside. We went through the antechamber to the central domed room, and I pointed to the niche in the wall. “That’s where we found the box. I sensed the break in the stone behind the remnants of the paneling.” I scanned the rest of the walls. “I don’t see any others. Do you, _Maamr_?”

My mother shook her head, then looked up at the dome. “I don’t, but that’s not a surprise. Your stone sense is better than mine. Isn’t that beautiful? The central stone in the dome is carved like a star.”

Lord Elrond looked up. “The star of memory, if I’m not mistaken. That is telling. I think any clues we may find will be within this room, but let us search the others first.”

We made a pass through the rooms that surrounded the domed chambers, but as Lord Elrond expected, they held nothing to help us. The passing years had reduced any furniture and textiles to powder, and there was no metal to be found, or glass. We came back to the central room.

“There were once murals in the stone above the wood paneling,” Lord Elrond mused. “It was a woodland scene.”

“You can still see it, a bit,” _Maamr_ said, standing in the middle of the room. “The panels are nothing but ghosts, but you can see the trunks of the trees tracing up towards the dome, with the open places for the murals in between. And that panel looks to be carved like a hill with trees atop it.”

“Here’s a bit of the stone carvings that looks like cascading starflowers, too,” I pointed.

Lord Elrond turned to and fro, taking in the bits we’d noticed and fitting them into a whole. He nodded to himself once or twice, then turned his regard on us. “The hill may be Lothlórien.”

“That’s where Arwen is with her grandmother, isn’t it?” I asked.

“It is,” Lord Elrond nodded. “It is considered the fairest forest of the Elves left in Middle Earth. Some call it Lorien, for the golden trees that crown the central hill. But Lothlórien means dreamflower, the small white flower so prevalent there. It looks much like the cascading starflower you both know. Perhaps the blooms in the necklace are dreamflowers. And there is a thrush just visible above the niche.”

“A thrush?” I asked.

“An ancient bird said to offer warning to the wise.” Lord Elrond leaned over to look into the niche. He blew into it, perhaps to see if the air revealed anything more inside. Whatever the case, he edged his hand inside, but brought out only a handful of shreds.

“Ancient parchment.”

“Too ancient to read, if ever they held words,” _Maamr_ agreed.

We went over the chamber carefully once more, to make sure that we hadn’t overlooked anything. Lord Elrond studied the murals and the remains of the paneling again.

“It may be useful for us to make drawings of the remains here, in case there is something we have missed. I’ll ask Lindir to see to it. He has a fair hand, and draws well. He will also know other artists who can help make a clear copy.”

“Just don’t tell them what we’re looking for,” I said without thinking. I turned red, and looked up at the lord’s indulgent smile. “Sorry, sir. You know your way best, I’m sure, without me to tell you.”

“I shall take your caution to heart, Master Dwarf. I’m sure Lindir can spin us a tale about me wanting a remembrance of an old friend, and no one will be the wiser.”

“Yes, sir,” I mumbled, as we came out of the domed house. My mother was smirking a bit, but I kept quiet as I followed along behind the two rulers. Every time I thought I had the hang of acting like an adult, I found out that I didn’t.

 

* * *

 

Lord Elrond, Dís, and Kíli had barely left the chamber before Lindir bustled into action, urging me behind him. I welcomed his haste; I was still reeling from what I’d almost done to Kíli when I’d set eyes on that cursed necklace. He was my dearest treasure, and I had thrown him aside for a mere trinket – a hateful one, at that. What kind of devilry was this that could overwhelm my heart as well as my spirit? I shuddered as I followed Lindir, unheeding of his running commentary on where we were going and what we would look for when we got there. Perhaps burying myself in Lindir’s beloved paper would help me swallow my embarrassment, my shame, my self-loathing.

No trinket of Middle Earth, nor the Undying Lands, nor any realm above, below, before, or beyond, would ever be worth more to me than Kíli. Nothing.

By the time I’d swallowed my upset, Lindir had led us into the library hall. This large chamber was full of shelves, each bearing uncounted bound books, stacks of scrolls and papers, and boxes surely containing more of the same. A large table sat in the center of the shelves where one could lay out the materials for study. Lindir moved confidently around the chamber, easing out one tome here and another one there. The care with which he handled the books showed his reverence for them, and he didn’t seem so fussy now. Lindir loved knowledge, and treated its manifestations with respect. I resolved to keep this insight in mind, though I suspected it would not help Kíli sort through his papers with less exasperation.

“Here, Tauriel; this treatise might tell us something about dragon sickness – oh, you’d better not touch it yet, given all the mud. I’ll sort a few more things out while you wash your hands, and then we can look through them.”

“An excellent idea,” I agreed, and hastened off to the nearest necessary. I brushed off my clothes as best I could, washed the mud off my face and hands, and returned in better condition to handle the documents, some of which were old and fragile. Lindir had sorted out quite a few things by then, and I sat across from him to read the first one. I steeled myself to face a dry tome, but to my surprise it was a storybook full of old tales. All of them looked tempting, and the illustrations were beautifully drawn. Despite wanting to read all of them in depth, I instead skimmed the prose until I found mention of dragons. The story was delightful, a stirring tale of a marauding beast and an intelligent maid who tricked it out of killing her. It brought a smile to my face, which made Lindir look to see what I was reading.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” he smiled quietly. “I loved that book when I was small. My mother read it to me before I could read it myself. I still reread it on occasion. I’ve worn out at least two copies of it, I think.”

“I can see why,” I smiled back. “The author is a good teller of tales.”

The spark in Lindir’s eyes was unmistakable. “I think so, too. That’s a book for Elflings, but he wrote others for older folk. I liked him best because his tales seemed more real that those of other writers.”

“Are any of his other books in your collection?” I asked. “If you thought his tales seemed more real, then perhaps they are, and the things he wrote for those not so easily frightened might have clues for us.”

“That’s a good idea,” Lindir sorted carefully through the double stack of documents. “No, I didn’t put any of his other books out. But I’ll show you where they are, and you can look through them for yourself. They’re in that shelf just behind you, fourth from the top, on the left.”

I perused the shelf, and indeed found three books. I brought all of them to the table, and set to flipping through the first. Indeed, this book was not for the very young, as the endings were often grisly, if justified. Still, Lindir was right about the author’s skill. The small details of his stories filled in the tale, and because those small details rang true, so did the rest of the tale. So engrossed was I that I had read through two long tales by the time that Kíli, Dís, and Lord Elrond returned. They described in vivid terms what Lord Elrond had pieced together about the murals perhaps representing Lothlórien.

I went to the necessary to change my muddy tunic for the clean one Kíli had brought me. When I returned, Dís and Kíli picked through the documents to read, and Lord Elrond dictated a letter to Lindir to dispatch to Galadriel in Lothlórien. He inquired about the family of Alathiel, as well as knowledge of dragon’s gold and the madness we’d seen it cause, but didn’t provide any details of what we had found. A pair of messengers reported to take the letter and start it on its way to the famed refuge of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.

“I think we have made a good start,” Lord Elrond said as the afternoon darkened into dusk. “We can begin again tomorrow to pool what we have learned.”

“May I borrow this one?” Kíli asked, holding up one of the storybooks I had found. “I’m halfway through this one story, and I’d like to find out how it ends.”

Lindir beamed. “Please, enjoy it. I think it’s the best one of the three Tauriel chose. And it might have something useful in it.”

“I’d like to take one, too,” I held up another.

“Of course.”

“Thank you, Lindir,” I gave him a friendly smile. “We will take good care of your books. No reading in the bathing tub, or in the kitchen.”

“I’ll stay out of the fountains with mine, too,” Kíli grinned, winking at me.

Lindir unbent enough to know that we were teasing him, and smiled back. “I would be most grateful. I fear it would take you a very long time to write out a replacement, and I doubt that either of you would like to attempt it.”

“Oh, Valar, no,” Kíli looked to the ceiling. “I’ll be doubly careful then, won’t I?”

“Thank you,” Lindir smiled a little wider.

“Oh, I forgot something,” Kíli grimaced. “I thought about this on the way back from the domed house. We have to try one more thing with the necklace. We know that when it’s in the mithril box, it doesn’t affect you Elves. But what if it’s in something else, like a bag, or if it’s not in anything but you can’t see it? Can you sense it then?”

“An excellent question, and one we can quickly answer. First, let us find something to put it in.” Lord Elrond looked around the room, and fetched a carved wooden box that contained letters. He took out the letters, handed the box to Dís, and beckoned Lindir and me to his side. “Kíli, you and Dís quickly move the necklace from the mithril box to the wooden one, and close it. If any of us sense the necklace, we’ll say so, and you will put the necklace back in the mithril box.”

Dís and Kíli stood on the other side of the chamber, and arranged themselves. Kíli shot a look over his shoulder. “We’re moving it... now.”

I tensed, but felt nothing. Kíli and his mother turned to look at us, and for a moment or two, I thought all was well. But slowly, a thread of worry crept into my thoughts, as if I had lost something, and I needed to find it and hold it close. I waited a moment more, to see if the unease settled, but it only grew stronger. I looked at Lindir and Lord Elrond; the latter’s face was serene, but Lindir was uneasy, if not as much as I.

“I feel like I’ve lost something very, very important, and I have to find it,” I swallowed. “It’s something I have to keep near, or it’s going to be lost.”

“So do I,” Lindir whispered. “Something I have to protect.”

“Put it back,” I turned away. “Please, put it back. It’s the worst feeling.”

“Hold a moment more,” Lord Elrond asked, drawing our eyes. He was as serene as before, but he had turned inward, perhaps to concentrate on the sensation. Kili and Dís watched him narrowly, she holding the wooden box, and Kíli holding the mithril one. When the pressure grew too much, I backed towards the door.

“I have to leave,” I stammered. “It’s the worst feeling, and it’s getting worse. Please put it back in the mithril box.”

“Go out of the chamber, Tauriel,” Lord Elrond directed. “See how far you must go before you feel no discomfort.”

I raced out of the chamber. I was outside before I thought, and I was free of its pull. I walked slowly back, noting when I felt the first edge of discomfort, then forced my way back towards Lord Elrond’s chamber. Lindir was just outside the antechamber, breathing hard, but looking relieved.

“You do not feel it anymore?” I asked, clenching my teeth at the drive to find the necklace.

He shook his head.

“I do. Please, tell them to put it back in the box. I cannot go in there.”

Lindir took my hand tentatively. “We will manage. Come on.”

He urged me forward, and I made it inside the chamber. But I couldn’t stop myself from pleading, “Please, put it away! Put it away!”

At Lord Elrond’s nod, Kíli and Dís turned away from us to make the transfer. At once, the driving urgency in my thoughts faded, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Tauriel, Lindir, how far did each of you have to go before you didn’t sense the gold?” the high lord asked us.

“Just inside the outside door, my lord,” I said.

“Outside the antechamber,” was Lindir’s answer.

“Well done, both of you. It was a fearsome trial, indeed. Kíli, that was a good test to make.”

“Thank you, sir. So the mithril does block the effect of the dragon’s gold.”

“There’s something else,” I shut my eyes and stared at my feet. It was a hard thing I had to say, but it needed to be said.

“Tauriel?” Kíli came immediately to my side, looking up at me in worry. “What is it, _amrâlimê_?”

“It’s clear that the necklace affects me more than it does either Lindir or you, Lord Elrond. There are two reasons I can think of. First, I am the youngest Elf here by several hundred years. Second, I’m not a high Elf. I am Nandor, not Sindar or Imladris. The ones called less wise but more dangerous.”

“Both valid points,” Lord Elrond said. “The effect may be more intense for the younger, or less learned, or those less familiar with such relics. It is no fault of yours in any case, Tauriel, and the fact that you noted this clue shows that you are not so unlearned as you believe.”

I felt better at Lord Elrond’s encouragement. “Thank you, my lord. I think I will continue to show my wisdom by staying away from such relics for the foreseeable future.”

“Very wise, indeed,” Lord Elrond offered me a bow and a smile. “Let us take our leave for today, and meet again after luncheon tomorrow to see what new things we have learned.”

Dís, Kíli, and I bade farewell to Lindir and Lord Elrond, and walked together home. I tried not to worry that Kíli had the mithril box under his arm, and was silent while Kíli and Dís discussed her intention of talking to the Dwarves tomorrow morning. When we drew near to home, though, I pulled on Kíli’s arm.

“What is it, Tauriel? Are you still unsettled?” he asked softly.

“Would you take the box inside and hide it where I won’t see it?” I asked him. Dís looked on sympathetically, and patted my arm in comfort. “Someplace where I won’t inadvertently stumble upon it? And don’t tell me where you put it.”

“I will, then,” Kíli agreed soberly. “Why don’t you and _Maamr_ get Míriel from Rhiannel and Giriel, and I’ll hide the box?”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

Kíli went on inside our house. Dís patted my arm again. “Try not to worry, lass,” she said softly. “We’ll keep that cursed thing away from you, and we’ll get this sorted out as soon as soon can be for both our folk.”

I smile at her gratefully. “It is a terrible thing. I don’t ever want to feel such craving for a mere object again.”

“I can well believe it,” she agreed. “I’ve watched enough Dwarves suffer from gold sickness to know that dragon sickness is just as fearsome. Now, let’s find that bairn of ours.”

We retrieved Míriel in short order, thanked her two playmates for their care, and crossed the courtyard to our home. Kíli had lit the welcome lanterns, and was in the kitchen rummaging for supper. I breathed a sigh of relief when the mithril box was out of sight. My worry eased now that it was secreted away.

Kíli, Dís, and I sorted out a delicious supper. The three of us had come to a comfortable routine together – I settled the salad, vegetables, and wine; Kíli filleted fish and tended it in the pan; and Dís made Bilbo’s biscuits. Míriel sat in her chair and babbled at us as we worked, and soon we sat down to supper. We discussed the things we’d pieced together today as we ate. Kíli persisted on sneaking tastes of our meal to Míriel, which wasn’t sneaky at all, given that Míriel had learned to open her mouth each time Kíli’s finger got near. She gaped like a strange little bird, and smacked her lips at each new taste. I was happy to see that she didn’t like Kíli’s ale at all, and preferred berry crumble most.

After we cleared the supper, we retired to the sitting room where Míriel busily crawled back and forth over the rug while the rest of us paged through the books we’d borrowed from Lindir. Our daughter was so excited about this new game that Dís laughed and thought she’d be walking in no time.

Kíli had put aside his book to lie on the floor, jumping Troli’s doll around for Míriel. “I hope we have a little time yet before I have to put the hooks up higher in the hallway for all the blades. I’d hoped to wait before I have to face two armed Elf maids in the house. I’ll be outnumbered.”

Dís laughed. “Your uncle found that out the hard way with Fíli. Maybe you don’t know, Tauriel, but Fíli showed his love of a good blade very early.”

Kíli rolled his eyes. “I told you she’d start telling tales about us and all the trouble we were as bairns, didn’t I?”

“You did,” I grinned. “And I want to hear them all. I’m not surprised about Fíli. The first day I met him was in Mirkwood, when your company ran afoul of the spiders. We found at least a dozen and a half blades on him. He even had four strapped to his boots.”

“Two down the back of his coat,” Kíli supplied.

“One in the back of his braids,” I added.

Dís laughed. “Was he still doing the one in his braids?”

“At least he learned to keep that one in a sheath,” Kíli snickered. He looked at me. “He lost a braid or two before he figured out that the little time he saved pulling the naked blade out wasn’t worth the loss of his hair.”

I giggled. “So tell me about how Thorin found out the hard way about Fíli and his blades.”

Laughing, Dís shook her head. “Fíli was three, no more. Barely old enough to cut up his meat at table by himself. He had a fascination for knives even then. I used to catch him trying to reach Thorin’s blades from their hooks by the door. One afternoon, I was out when Thorin came home with Fíli. I’d told him about Fíli’s attempts, but he didn’t believe me. He turned his back for a moment, and the next thing he knew Fíli shoved a stool over to the hooks, got one of the short knives out of its sheath, and charged his uncle with a yell like an invading Orc. He stuck Thorin in the knee with the utmost glee, Thorin said. I came home to find the knives hanging from the ceiling, Thorin with a bloody rag wrapped around his knee, and Fíli looking inordinately proud of himself. Thorin looked rather proud, too, if a bit shamefaced for letting a three-year-old stab him.”

Dís reminisced with a few more stories, some of which made Kíli blush, and all of which made me laugh. It was a good way to end the day on a cheerful and comfortable note. Dís went off to bathe, and I suckled Míriel. Kíli slumped comfortably in his chair to read his book.

“Did you know that when Aulë made the Dwarves, he made us resistant to most curses and coercion?” he said after a time. “At least that’s what this storybook says.”

“If that is true, then that might explain why your folk are resistant to dragon sickness,” I offered.

He hummed. “It would explain gold sickness, too, I think. That’s our doing, not due to a curse or a coercion, or the nature of gold.”

I switched Míriel to my other breast. “The Eldar tell this tale of how the races came to be. Eru created the Eldar and Men, and gave the Dwarves their free will after Aulë made them. Melkor hated Eru’s creations, especially the Eldar because we were the first, so he made war against his fellow Ainur and sowed discord among the Elves and Men. Along the way, he created the dragons especially to plague the Eldar.”

“Which might explain why dragon sickness plagues Elves and not Dwarves,” Kíli concluded. He exhaled. “It’s hard to think of the tales out of a storybook as actually being real at some point.” He cast me a look. “Is it easier for Elves? You live so long that maybe you actually remember the stories in the books, and it’s history, or a memory, rather than an imagined story.”

“Perhaps to the older Elves. I am not old enough to have lived through the stories in these books, so they seem just as unreal to me as to you.”

Kíli smirked. “It’s hard to think of an Elf of a mere six hundred years as being young. That’s twice the age of most Dwarves, yet it’s just the start for an Elf.”

Dís padded to the door of the sitting room. “I’m for bed, one and all. I’ll take my book to help me fall asleep, and I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow.”

Kíli got up to kiss his mother goodnight. She came in to kiss me, and give Míriel a goodnight snuggle. Between all the crawling Míriel had done with such exuberance all day, and her last meal of the evening, she was already getting the slight cross-eyed expression she took on when she was ready to contemplate her toes.

“Goodnight, silly bairn,” Dís wished her, chucking. “Since you don’t sleep, I won’t say sleep well. So consider well, instead.”

“Goodnight, Dís.”

“Goodnight, _Maamr_.”

Dís wished us the same, and retreated with her book to Bilbo’s room.

“Míriel’s almost finished, so why don’t you get in the bath and I’ll follow you in a moment?”

Kíli yawned. “I will. Bring Miri in when she’s ready, and I’ll bathe her.”

Míriel was well ready for her evening contemplation, for she finished suckling and filling her diaper in short order. Even playing bubbles with her father didn’t distract her for long. Learning to crawl was an exhausting business for a six-month-old babe. Kíli clambered out to dry off, and settled Míriel in her cradle while I washed, then we both went to bed.

As I lay down beside my husband, his arms went around me, and he cradled me against his chest. “My sweet _amrâlimê_ ,” he murmured, nuzzling my ear.

“I am so sorry, Kíli,” I whispered back. “I am relieved that you put that cursed necklace back in its box before I hurt you. I am ashamed of myself for what I did.”

“Don’t take it to heart, Tauriel,” he replied, stroking my hair. “If what I read tonight is true, what happened isn’t a matter of your weak will or poor resolve. It’s the evil of something far more powerful than any of us, taking advantage of Elvish nature for spite. Even Lord Elrond felt the same pull. So don’t fault yourself.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t try to claim indulgences of me for it,” I tried to joke, but Kíli kept stroking my hair.

“I would never extort payment for a wrong that wasn’t yours,” he said. “Melkor owes all of Middle Earth many debts, not just you and me, and extracting payment is something we must leave to the Ainur. We’ll worry about the things we can do. First, we’ll sort out how this cursed necklace works. Then we’ll sort out why it was hidden away. And then we’ll sort out how to get rid of it.”

I let myself bask in the comfort of Kíli’s love, knowing I was the most fortunate of Elf maids.

After Kíli fell asleep, I lay beside him for a while, thinking about the King of the Woodland Realm, a king scarred by dragon fire.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> We get a little more talk about dragon sickness, and make visits to both an Elvish and a Dwarvish apothecary, as well as sample a little angst and a little romance. Kili decides he wants help in his new career as an ambassador, but needs no help at the forge. Revelations and surprises abound.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the noodling!

_The jeweler was sure that his assistant had found out about the ingot. Oh, he’d never said a word to Elianth, but still, he was sure that Elianth knew. Elianth was so clever at his spying that the jeweler never spotted him staring at the cache; he just waited until the jeweler’s back was turned to do his staring, of course. The jeweler took to checking the cache every night after everyone left to make sure the ingot was still there. He kept careful watch, but his surety grew and grew until he ran Elianth off._

_Kesthil replaced Elianth, but Elianth must have told Kesthil about the ingot, because soon he, too, turned into a spy. They were so clever! How they watched without ever getting caught at it! The jeweler finally ran Kesthil off, too. And every night he checked the ingot._

_Glarin replaced Kethil. The jeweler took to checking the ingot every morn and every eve. Then at luncheon. Just to make sure it was safe. There were so many spies!_

_Resthin replaced Glarin._

_Vestralar replaced Resthin. Vestralar had to stay, because there was no one else. But he was a spy, too, just as all the others had been. So the jeweler took to carrying the ingot in his tunic to keep it safe. It felt good to have it in his hand, or to feel it warm against his heart._

_When Vestralar was brazen enough to ask the jeweler what he bore in his tunic that so plagued him, the jeweler was desperate. In the depths of the night, the jeweler took the ingot and enough money to flee. He’d find sanctuary in another place, away from so many spies. But when he stayed in an inn, the common room was so full of watchers that he couldn’t finish his supper. He fled on his horse and found a thicket to hide in until dawn. The next day, he turned north. There were fewer folk there, and so there would be fewer spies._

_The Man who stopped him wanted only his money, not his life, so he handed over his coins without protest. But when the thief tried to take the ingot, he fought, and got steel in payment for his treasure. It was not a severe wound, for the Man was intent on lucre, not murder. But the jeweler lived only long enough to feel fingers steal the ingot away._

_He died of a broken heart._

_* * *_

 

Right after breakfast, my mother went off to see the twenty Dwarves who’d accompanied us from the Blue Mountains. It was her habit to spend time with them in the morn, both to share time with her kin as well as discuss the ongoing negotiations with Lord Elrond. Today, of course, she intended to ask about dragon sickness and whatever tales that stirred up. Tauriel was standing duty, and I took Míriel to play with Giriel and Drennal so I could head to the forge.

I’d asked _Maamr_ to stay in Imladris through the winter, and travel back to the Blue Mountains in the spring. But while she would have been happy to stay with Tauriel, Míriel, and me, she didn’t want to delay her return east, because so many of our folk were eager to emigrate to Erebor. She wanted to hammer out arrangements with Lord Elrond, and then head home to explain those arrangements to our folk before any headed east. _Maamr_ was well aware of the animosity so many Dwarves held for Elves, and there was sure to be trouble along the way. Given how many thousands would be coming through Elvish lands, she had her work cut out for her trying to bang sense in their heads so the Elves weren’t so exercised that they retaliated in kind. Getting back to the Blue Mountains before the winter snows meant that she’d have all winter to bang on those heads. It’d also give me time to work on arrangements with Lord Elrond about the Beornings and the Woodland Realm. In the spring, then, when Dwarves began to arrive, we’d be ready to move them along in short order, with a minimum of fuss.

 _Maamr_ was right in her statecraft, but it played havoc with my plans for the forge. Those had come about after my visit to an Elvish apothecary...

 

* * *

 

When we’d gotten home after our long, long journey to the Blue Mountains, I’d still suffered from the wounds I’d gotten along the way. I’d taken an Orcish arrow in my left thigh, and I’d been flogged nearly to death the day before Tauriel, the rest of the Orc Spawn, and my mother’s warriors had freed me. Níri, the Dwarvish apothecary, had cared for me well, and I’d come home glad to be alive. But I was not to my normal strength yet, and the arrow wound, while not poisoned, still ached. Níri had continued to tend me, but he’d also suggested that I consult an Elvish one. The considering way he looked at me was enough for me to do so.

The Elvish apothecary agreed to see me readily enough, and indicated the table where I was to sit for him to examine me. I shed tunic and trews and boosted myself up.

Perin fell silent for a long moment when he looked at my healing welts. His fingers were cool as he ventured the lightest of touches. “Who did this?”

“Orcs.” I gave him a grimace. “They weren’t happy with me.”

“They were not.” His fingers continued their careful exploration. “The welts are healing well. Whoever cared for them was quite skilled.”

“His name’s Níri. He’s the Dwarvish apothecary who came with the Blue Mountain Dwarves.”

Perin came around to regard me with a frown. “Are you dissatisfied with his treatment?”

“Oh and oh, not at all! He saved my life, I expect, and he did a good job of it. My back’s tender yet, but it gets better each day. It’s my leg. An Elvish apothecary saw to that one, and very well – I’ve no complaints about her, either. She didn’t think the arrow was poisoned, but it still aches. Níri suggested I see an Elvish apothecary for it, in case there was something your folk knew to help that he didn’t.”

He nodded understanding as he studied my arrow wound, but I saw the same considering light in his eyes that I’d seen in Níri’s.

“I think Níri suggested I see an Elvish apothecary for another reason,” I ventured.

Perin’s hazel eyes met mine with an assessing look. “I well imagine he did.”

“Can you tell if my father was an Elf?”

Perin’s eyes widened for a moment, then he smiled. “I do enjoy a direct patient. It saves so much time, and we know exactly where we stand with one another.”

I grinned. “My leg wasn’t a ruse. It does ache. And if you’ve got some lavender oil for my back, or something better, I’d be glad of it.”

“And your question?”

I shrugged. “My folk have speculated about it since my birth. My mother never said, and I didn’t care before now. I still don’t care who or why, only whether he was Elvish or no.”

Perin studied my leg. “Why now, after this long?”

I mulled that. “My wife is an Elf. We have a daughter,” I said slowly. “I love them both very much, and if I might live longer than I think I will, I’ll have more time with both of them. I’d like to have that time.”

He nodded, and at last looked up from my thigh. “There are ways to ease the ache. They are not comfortable. It requires deep massage of the muscles. In healing such a large wound, the muscle builds a structure within itself to aid in healing. Some of that structure binds to restrict the muscle’s movement until the injury is repaired. Once it has been repaired, any structure that remains can keep you from moving as fully as you did. The massage helps to remove the last of the structure now that it is no longer needed. It will also guard against the imbalance of one leg working differently from the other, and will pain you less as you age.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Are you the same apothecary who works on Giriel’s leg? She tells me how much you make her yell.”

His laughter was soft, but rich. “So I am. She is a most demonstrative patient.”

“I won’t be any better. She says it helps. But don’t tell her I told you.”

“Not a word,” he assured me. Then he turned that assessing look on me again. “As for your question, tell me why you think your father may be of the Eldar.”

“The way I look, mostly. I don’t know how familiar you are with my folk.”

He shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Then I’ll tell you how I’m different from them. I’m six inches taller, but not as stocky, and my chest isn’t the barrel it is for most of my folk. I’ve got a pointed chin, high cheekbones, and a bit of a slant to my eyes. I’ve got no beard beyond what you see, no pelt of hair on my chest and back other than the ridge of mane down my spine, and my hair’s black, which is rare, if not unheard of. We usually have brown or red hair, or sometimes blond like my brother. Mine’s also wavy with a finer texture, rather than coarse or kinky. And my brother wrote poetry.”

Perin laughed openly. “Is there no poetry among Dwarves?”

I snickered. “It’s all about drinking and fighting. A lot of it’s quite filthy. Nothing like what Elves write. My brother’s verses were like what I’ve heard here. They were good, too.”

“If I may.”

I gave Perin my hand, which he turned palm up. His fingers kneaded the bones in the middle of my palm, seeming to find each one and manipulate it separately before going on to the next. He studied my ribs, my shoulders, and of all things, my ears. Then he put fingers to my arrow wound, and worked them into the scar. When I winced, he nodded to me.

“Lie back. This will hurt, so I ask you to hold onto the edge of the table. This tends to keep my patients from hitting me when I find a stubborn bit of the structure.”

I laughed as I put myself flat on the table. “I’ll do my best. If I can’t help myself, I’ll try to yell in time for you to duck.”

“That will be most appreciated,” he replied dryly, and set to.

Twenty minutes later, I hadn’t clouted Perin, but my leg was quivering after his deep work. It hadn’t been painful enough to make me yell like Giriel, but it had hurt, as I’d been warned. I welcomed the recommendation that I soak in a hot bath as soon as possible. I thought fondly of the tub in our bathing chamber and promised to retire there forthwith.

“You did well,” Perin complimented, as I eased on my clothes. He busied himself at the shelves full of his herbs and oils and potions, and handed me two small bottles of oil. “The green is for your back. It combines lavender and calendula. Ask your wife to rub it gently into the scars after you bathe each day. The clear is merely a cooling lotion for your leg. After the hot bath tonight, and each night thereafter, massage in the oil thoroughly, but not to the point of pain. That is my privilege. Come back in two days for your next massage.”

I laughed at the comment about Perin’s privilege as I fished out the price of my treatments, and arranged when to return. “I thank you, Perin. And... could you find any answer to my question? If not, I understand.”

Perin considered in the way Elves had, almost as if they were listening to the Valar for their wisdom. “I cannot be sure, Kíli. But... your ears tell me that you are likely to have more years than you think.”

“My... ears?”

He chuckled. “Just so. The shape of the cartilage is suggestive.”

I didn’t expect the wide grin on my face, but I should have. Perin had just given me the gift of more time with my _amrâlimê_ , and that was worth far more than the coins I paid him.

“I thank you, sir. And I’ll see you next in two days.”

I went home whistling. Tauriel had always liked my ears. Maybe now I knew why.

 

* * *

 

After my visit to Perin, I remembered that an Elvish apothecary was not the only one I should feel grateful to about my probable parentage. The other, of course, was my unknown father. If he still lived, perhaps he was back in the Blue Mountains. So I resolved to forge something for him that my mother could take with her when she returned west. It would be my thanks to him for life, and for the precious chance of more time with Tauriel. If he no longer lived, then my mother could keep the gift as a remembrance of father and son.

Forging and polishing, however, took time, and if _Maamr_ held firm about when she planned to leave, I had to start now, even though I wasn’t at my strongest. So just before Tauriel and I had found the necklace, I had forged a pair of blades. This new puzzle put even more constraints on my time, so I needed to be ruthless about using every available second to polish the steel. I raced down to the forge as if Orcs still pursued me, and set to.

I might be of mixed race, but I was pure Dwarvish when I worked metal. Time passed without notice as the metal spoke to me of what it needed. Even while hammering and heating, both hot and sweaty tasks, I felt only calm and rightness. A task such as polishing was cooler and required less effort, but just as much concentration. I made good progress on the first blade before I was aware of my surroundings again. Oh, Valar, I’d worked right through the normal time for luncheon, and was dead late to meet the other necklace guardians, as I’d come to think of us. I hastily cleaned up the bench where I’d worked, stuffed the blades and polishing things in a bag, and ran for Lord Elrond’s chambers. I stopped at the necessary to tend to the obvious, pull on a clean shirt, and stuff three hard-boiled eggs and a pair of ham buns down my throat. That would at least keep my stomach from growling. Dwarves didn’t care about such noises, but Elves didn’t have the same relationship with food as Dwarves did. I raked a comb through my hair, pulled the whole lot, including braids, back into a smith’s queue, and ran out looking more or less respectable. The rest of my comrades were in the middle of their discussion when I hurried in.

“My apologies, one and all,” I said, nudging the bag under the chair next to Tauriel and climbing into it. “I was at the forge.”

“We’ve just begun,” Lord Elrond waved a hand. “Tauriel has just arrived from her captain’s meeting, and Dís stayed long with your folk.”

Each of us related anything we’d learned since yesterday, which Lindir duly wrote down. The Elf might have too deep an affinity for paper, but he was well organized and the perfect one to be the repository for all we learned. The only thing Tauriel and I had to add was the bit we’d cobbled together last night about why Dwarves might be susceptible to gold sickness but not dragon sickness, while the reverse was true for Elves. As we expected, none of my mother’s warriors were smiths, but the oldest one knew the same tales about a dragon poisoning the gold it lay on. Lindir had traced through Alathiel’s family, and had found no descendants. An Elf lady who remembered Alathiel confirmed that the murals in the domed house did represent Lothlórien, but she knew nothing of any purported marriage or anything else. Lord Elrond had more luck with his master smith, who confirmed the insulating properties of mithril.

“I think we must hope that your letter to the Lady Galadriel bears fruit,” Lindir summarized, tapping his pen tip gently against the blotter. “We have little more information in Imladris other than what we have discovered so far – oh! Wait a moment... something one of us said about dragon sickness...”

We remained silent, letting Lindir complete his thought. “I remember Dís saying when she looked at the necklace that it might be very old. And Lord Elrond, you confirmed that the dragon gold itself is very old, yes?”

Both Dís and Lord Elrond nodded.

“So I wonder... I do not know if this is true, but if the nature of gold allows it to soak up the nature of dragons, might it also soak up the nature of other creatures?”

“Such as those who might have held it since it found its way out of the dragon’s hoard, such as long-lived Elves?” Lord Elrond surmised.

Lindir nodded quickly. “Yes. If it was passed among Elves only, then it had no chance to attune itself to Dwarves.”

“That’s a right idea,” I said admiringly. “Well thought out, Lindir!”

Tauriel stirred uncomfortably beside me. “If those Elves were of the Woodland Realm, could that explain why the necklace affects me so much more than either of you?”

“If Lindir is correct about the gold soaking up the nature of its owners, it might be possible,” Lord Elrond said quietly.

“There is something that you may not know about the Woodland Realm,” Tauriel said softly, looking down at her hands. My throat closed for her; she’d taken her reaction to the necklace too much to heart, despite my reassurances. Anything that reduced my fierce Elf warrior maid to such abject shame was truly a malicious and hateful thing. “King Thranduil has made a great study of dragons, and knows much about them. Before I was born, he led our folk many times against the beasts that came from the Withered Heath, which is north of Erebor. He even suffered serious wounds in one of those battles. He may know something about relics made of dragon gold, and what we should do to destroy one.”

“Duly noted,” Lord Elrond said, and Lindir wrote the king’s name in the notes he kept for us. “I think Lindir is right that we must await Lothlórien’s reply to my queries. We will all keep searching as we can. If any of us unearths something of import, we will come together to discuss it.”

“I wanted to ask something before we leave,” I asked. “I’ve told _Maamr_ about the need to negotiate passage for the Dwarves across the Beornings’ lands and through Mirkwood. _Maamr’s_ talked to me a little about what we can offer and what we can promise in those negotiations. I’ll do my best to be a good ambassador for my folk, but I already know that neither Beorn nor King Thranduil are overly fond of Dwarves, to say the least. I was thinking that if there’s reason to talk to Kind Thranduil about the necklace, he’ll want to deal with you, Lord Elrond, not a Dwarf he has reason to dislike. And since we have to go through Beorn’s land to get to the Woodland Realm, anyway...”

I gulped, realizing how presumptuous I was, but Lord Elrond smiled his usual benevolent smile. “You think I would be a good mediator.”

I nodded quickly. “In a word, sir, I do. I know I’m asking a lot. I do. But if we have to go to the Woodland Realm about the necklace, it seems like going to make a bargain for safe passage would be a lot better tale to tell than trumpeting about this dangerous relic we have. Especially if it turns out that the Woodland Realm Elves are more susceptible to this dangerous relic. We can talk about the safe passage, and then sort of... ask around about the relic in passing, to see if we can safely say any more.”

“Your plan is well reasoned, and if we must consult with the Woodland Realm about the necklace, then I will mediate your agreement for safe passage with both Beorn and King Thranduil.”

I blinked. I’d just asked a huge boon from the most eminent lord of Elves, and he’d granted it without hesitation. “Thank you, sir. I thank you most gratefully. That’s a right load off.”

“It behooves my folk if yours secure safe passage to the east,” Lord Elrond pointed out. “Such would shorten the time needed to reach Erebor safely, and would eliminate any delays in our city. We are prepared to handle cake-throwing, but only so much of it.”

The high lord was clearly teasing, so I laughed with good nature, and got up to take my leave with the rest. “I’ve started a list of things to tell the Dwarves, sir. Cake-throwing and fountain bathing are the first two items, I promise.”

“Well done. Good afternoon to you all, until we next gather.”

Tauriel and I murmured our goodbyes and bowed, and followed Lindir out. _Maamr_ was staying behind to continue her negotiations with Lord Elrond. We chatted a moment or two with Lindir before taking our leave, then headed home.

Tauriel was quiet as we walked home, I suspected because of her worry about the necklace, so I shifted my bag of tools until it clanked to distract her.

“You carry a heavy bag, _a’maelamin_ ,” she said, on cue.

Glad that my distraction had worked, I told her about the knives I wanted to finish in time for _Maamr’s_ trip back to the Blue Mountains.

“It is a generous plan,” she complimented me. “But I would not have thought that knives would be your choice of gift for your mother.”

“They aren’t for my mother. They’re for my father.”

Her eyes met mine in an instant. “You found out who he is?”

I shook my head. “But I think I found out _what_ he is.”

“One of the Dwarves knows?”

I shook my head again. “When I saw the Elvish apothecary who tends Giriel? The one who puts me through the same torture to help my leg? I asked him outright if he thought my father was an Elf.”

“What did he say?” Tauriel said breathlessly.

I grinned. “He said the shape of my ears was most suggestive.”

“Kíli! Then that means...”

I took her hand, and led her to a nearby bench. I set my bag down on the bench, then climbed up to draw Tauriel close. “That means, _amrâlimê_ , that I may yet have the pleasure of spending many more years with you than I expected. Nothing could delight me more.”

Tauriel’s hug nearly emptied my lungs of breath, but it was worth it, just to see the light in her emerald eyes rekindled.

“There’s just one disadvantage to that,” I said lightly, when Tauriel sniffed.

“No, there isn’t,” she said.

“Easy for you to say. You’re a foot taller than me. Likely all our children will grow as tall as you, and I’ll be stuck sitting in tall Elvish chairs for the rest of time, looking like a bairn.”

Tauriel laughed, releasing me from her tight hold to gaze at me affectionately. “I will never say you look like a bairn in any chair, ever.”

“I suppose that’ll have to do, then,” I sighed, and stroked her hair. “All right, then?”

She nodded. “So let us go home, so you can get on with your polishing.”

I clambered down, took up my bag, and we went on hand in hand.

“May I ask you something?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“I was going to visit the Dwarves after supper tonight, to see what the lads would tell me that they wouldn’t tell _Maamr_. But that wasn’t the only reason I was going.”

Tauriel nodded. “And what was the other reason, _a’maelamin_?”

“You know that many Dwarves get clan tattoos, yes?”

Tauriel regarded me dubiously. “You mean like the marks Dwalin had on his arms and head?”

I laughed. “He likes his tattoos, yes. I don’t want anything like that.”

Tauriel took a deep breath. “If you want to mark yourself thusly... I must admit that I like you the way you are.”

“I thought when we planned our wedding that I wanted to tattoo your name over my heart, because it’s yours. The runes would be small, but I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”

“You don’t need to mark yourself to prove that you love me, Kíli. I know you do.”

“It’s not to prove anything to either of us. I just liked thinking that I’d always have a piece of you with me, that’s all.”

“We have our rings,” she pointed out.

“Truth.”

She was silent as we walked. “If you mark yourself thus, then I will, too.”

My eyebrows went up. “But your beautiful skin, Tauriel... I don’t want you to mar it.”

“No more than I want you to mar yours.”

I hummed. “I see. I won’t, then.”

She glanced at me. “But you would like one of the marks of your folk, yes?”

I shrugged. “Many of my folk never mark themselves thus.”

“But warriors do, yes?”

I admitted that that was so.

“You are a warrior, so it is right for you to get one. I am a warrior, too, so I should have one as well.”

I glanced at her, and saw the resolve on her face. “You’re serious about this?”

“I... think I would like a small one rather than a large one. And not over my heart.”

“Where, then?”

She held up her hand. “Perhaps on my wrist?”

I thought about that as I let us in our house. “It would show.”

“That is the point, yes?”

“For some. Not this one.” I set my bag down on the hall bench. “This one’s a piece of you that I can keep with me always, that’s all.”

“I would like it to be beautiful.”

“And small, and ours.” I beckoned her into our workroom, and found a piece of paper and a pen. I drew two runes, and held it out to Tauriel. “What about the Elvish rune for T and the Dwarvish rune for K?”

She smiled, and looked at her wrist. “I like that. Do you?”

I nodded. “It’s a better idea than mine. It’s a piece of both of us. And I’d see it more on my wrist than if I put it on my chest.”

“So how is this marking done?”

I grimaced. “A needle makes a lot of tiny holes, and then fine charcoal powder is rubbed in to make the mark. It’s painful.”

“But if the mark is small, it doesn’t take long to make?”

I thought about it. “Perhaps a few moments, that’s all.”

Tauriel nodded. “Then we will both survive. One of the Dwarves knows how to make these marks, I gather.”

“Níri said he’d do it.”

“He has a steady hand.” Tauriel stuck out her hand. “Done?”

I looked at my wife incredulously. “You’ll do this?”

She grinned at my expression. “If you can be both Elvish and Dwarvish, then so can I.”

I shook my head, and slapped her hand. “Done.”

That evening, after supper with _Maamr_ and Míriel, Tauriel and I went down to the Dwarves’ inn, presented ourselves to Níri, and told him what we wanted.

“Both of you?” he said skeptically.

Tauriel nodded firmly. “Both of us.”

I went first, so Tauriel could see how it was done before she underwent it herself. Níri marked the runes carefully, made the needle holes, and finally rubbed the fine charcoal in the marks. Tauriel watched closely, both the process and my reactions to the needle. It wasn’t much pain compared to the flogging the Orcs had given me, and took only a few moments. By the time I was done, the room was abuzz about Tauriel being next. Someone put a mug of ale by her hand, from which she drank gamely before passing it on to me. I called for a glass of wine for her, which she sipped with more savor. Then my _amrâlimê_ pulled up her sleeve and put it on the table for Níri.

If Níri was careful about my mark, he was doubly so with Tauriel’s pale, delicate skin. He drew the runes lightly, bent over his needle with painstaking care to trace them, and rubbed the charcoal powder into the holes, all of which Tauriel bore stoically. When Niri wiped the blood away, Tauriel regarded the result with a considering eye.

“A steady hand, indeed,” she pronounced it. “I thank you for your care.”

She held up her wrist for the room to regard, which was met with a round of applause. We moved out of the way as others stepped forward for their marks, and we found welcome at any number of tables. My mark stung, but the pain was such that I wasn’t in any hurry to leave as long as Tauriel didn’t. We passed an hour or so in conversation with the Dwarves, then took our leave amid cheerful farewells.

“Did you learn anything from the Dwarves?” Tauriel asked me as we walked home.

“About dragons? No,” I shook my head. “About my wife, yes.”

Tauriel sighed. “And what did you learn about me?”

“That I’m even luckier to have you than I thought. Six Dwarves told me so.”

“Were they drunk?”

“Of course they were. That’s why I believe them. Drunken Dwarves speak the truth.”

Tauriel chuckled. “If drunken Dwarves tell the truth, then you are a brave and heroic warrior who speaks to Wargs and marries perilous Elf maids, and who will have a dozen children, all of whom will be beautiful maids and intrepid warriors.”

I giggled. “I’d better get busy, then. I’ve only the one bairn so far.”

“We have time, remember?”

I exhaled, and drew Tauriel’s hand up to kiss. “I do. But that doesn’t mean I want to waste the rest of tonight.”

Tauriel’s smile was quick to appear. “Shall I race you to the front door, then?”

With her long legs, she won, of course. But she made it up to me soon after.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> Kili finds that sitting and waiting for something to happen often results in the unexpected. This time, Giriel's got a lot to do with it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy what our gleeful Elvish warrior maid comes up with for the Orc Spawn. She's such a hoot!

  _The highwayman grabbed the Elf’s secret purse and ran, for already he heard hooves racing behind him. Two horses, he thought, mouthing a silent curse. The road guard was spotty, and wouldn’t it be his luck to run into them after making such a good haul? How close were they? He turned to look –_

_The arrow struck him in the shoulder, sending the stolen purse flying out of his hand and into the underbrush by the road. He staggered on, ignoring the shouts behind him. He still had the coins, and if he could reach the underbrush for himself, he’d slip those Elvish bastards –_

_The second arrow pierced his heart, and he was dead before he fell to the ground._

 

* * *

 

Little happened about the necklace for several days. I’d never found it easy to wait for something to descend upon me, and this was no different. To get all wound up for battle... and then have to sit and wait, and wait, and wait... never good for a Dwarf. Idle Dwarves regularly get into trouble, as my mother would tell anyone who’d listen, so I made sure I didn’t stay idle.

I spent most of my off duty time at the forge, laboring to finish the blades I’d give _Maamr_ to take back to the Blue Mountains. Tauriel knew where I was and liked what I was doing, and filled my absence without complaint at home. That had an unexpected benefit, for she and _Maamr_ grew closer. Tauriel took her on one of her house searches, both to show her some of the beautiful murals and sculptures, but also to continue our search for a wedding present for Fallin and Drennal. They came up with a beautiful set of glasses and a matching wine carafe. For her turn, _Maamr_ helped Tauriel make some new clothes for Míriel, and they added a few more to their efforts for Drennal’s forthcoming bairn. I was glad to see them get on so well. Both Tauriel and _Maamr_ were smart, capable, and strong, and confident enough to respect rather than rival each other. I admit that made my life much more peaceful, too.

Míriel was a great calming influence on me, because she was the happiest of babes, and it was impossible to stay grouchy or snarly around her for long. She took on this quizzical look when anyone was upset, usually paired with an inquiring burble, as if to say, “Come on, you lot; why are you wasting such a wonderful day? Play with me and Troli’s doll, and be happy.” And of course everyone could only agree with her.

I finally polished the two knives to my satisfaction, and engraved them. The knives were identical in shape and sharpness, but I engraved one with Dwarvish knotwork, and the other with Elvish vines. Tauriel told me that if my father were an Elf, he was likely one of the Teleri, kin to the great Elvish shipwright, Círdan. He was the only Elf Tauriel knew of who had a beard, so I felt a bit of kinship with him, as I was the only Dwarf without much of one. There was no knowing whether my father was a mariner, shipwright, or practiced some other profession, so I didn’t try to guess, and let the twine of greenery on the blade speak for itself. I didn’t have time to make working sheaths for them, but I fashioned wraps of sturdy rawhide to see them through _Maamr’s_ journey home undamaged.

Once my knives were finished, Tauriel and I held a party with the Orc Spawn to thank Fallin, Drennal, Rhiannel, and Giriel for accompanying us on our four-month journey to the Blue Mountains and back, and Tethrandil for tending all our houses while we were gone. The weather was nice, so we had it around our garden fountain. We had a lot of food and wine, and as there is with any gathering of Elves, we had a lot of singing and laughing, too. Fallin and Drennal liked the glasses and carafe Tauriel and Maamr had found for them, and the tiny gowns for their forthcoming bairn. _Maamr_ seemed to enjoy herself, too, chuckling at Giriel’s description of Perin’s kneading and knuckling to bring her leg back to its full strength.

Giriel’s eyes widened as Tauriel held up one of the little gowns she’d given Fallin and Drennal. She pulled Tauriel’s left wrist closer, pointing at her tattoo.

“What is this?” Giriel demanded, her eyes dancing. “Did you get a Dwarvish clan mark?”

“We both did,” Tauriel grinned, holding out her arm as everyone craned forward to make out the mark. I had to show mine, as well.

“Was there a secret ceremony to initiate you into the shadowy world of the _Khazuduhl_?” Giriel asked, drawing much laughter.

“It involved ale and a needle and soot powder,” Tauriel teased. “The needle and soot powder were bearable, but the ale was not. Fortunately, Kíli drank it for me.”

“What does it mean?” Drennal asked, leaning closer to see the small runes. Tauriel explained, and then I had to explain about Dwarvish clan markings.

“We need a clan mark for the Orc Spawn!” Giriel announced excitedly. “Drennal, don’t you think we need our own mark? Rhiannel?”

This would not go anywhere, I thought, as much as I liked the idea. _Maamr_ was openly laughing at the idea of Elves getting tattoos. But Tethrandil, of all Elves, took up the idea.

“Make it the head of a Warg. Because Kíli rode one, Giriel wants to ride one, and the rest of us are content to admire them from a distance,” he grinned.

“It’s perfect!” Giriel exclaimed. “Oh, come, how bad can it be? Tauriel, how long did it take to make your mark?”

“Just a few moments. Perhaps ten. It was bearable.”

“”Who can draw?” Fallin asked, intrigued at the idea. “Let us see what mark we can make for ourselves.”

I watched the Elves scurry around our house as if it were their own, collecting my drawing pad and charcoal sticks, handing blank sheets around, busily sketching away, and comparing notes. I shared a look of utter incredulity with Tauriel and my mother, not expecting anything to come of this. But in a few minutes, Rhiannel held up a sketch. It was a Warg outstretched in full run, elegantly drawn with just a few strokes that beautifully captured the essence of Warg-ness, and included a tiny rider atop it. It would make a distinctive mark.

That was all Giriel needed. She was all for running down to the Dwarves’ inn with sketch in hand to find Níri. Tauriel was laughing so hard that she was speechless, because shy Drennal was right there with Giriel, ready to get her mark, and even our thoughtful Rhiannel had an amused look on his face. Our Elf maids were rare ones, indeed. Practical Fallin asked about the cost, which was not much for a mark so small, and before I knew it, all six of them were scattering to collect coins so they could march upon a Dwarvish inn in conquest of clan markings. I went to Tauriel’s side.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” I assured her, but Tauriel was still laughing.

“You said you wanted a clan mark, and it seems that you will have one after all, _amrâlimê_ ,” she chuckled, using the Dwarvish endearment. “I will put mine on my other wrist, so I will be balanced between my love for you, and my love for my closest friends.”

“Well said,” _Maamr_ nodded. She had Míriel in her arms. “Come on, then. I want see this. When I get back to the Blue Mountains, I can’t wait to tell our folk that I watched a clan of Elves born right before my eyes.”

The Elves were back, milling in the garden, and excited about this new venture. I threw up my hands in amazement, and followed the lot of them out. Tauriel was ahead of me, arm in arm with Giriel and Drennal.

“They are the most amazing Elves I’ve ever met,” I said to _Maamr_ , as we brought up the rear with Míriel. “Who would have thought any of them would be off to get a Dwarvish apothecary to mark their skins with a tattoo?”

Maamr laughed, but it was more in chagrin than amusement. “They aren’t like anything I expected, Kíli. Every Elf I ever met was much more sedate.” She cast me a long look. “You have been a terrible influence, my son.”

My lips curved up in a mischievous grin. “I don’t think you can blame Giriel on me, _Maamr_. She’s like no Elf anyone’s ever seen before.”

“Truth, truth,” my mother shook her head. “I hope Níri’s had a solid supper.”

“And no ale,” I snickered, and took Míriel for the rest of the way down to the inn.

The Dwarves in the common room were so startled that they forgot to drink their ale when six Elves, two Dwarves, and a bairn descended upon them. I shouldered through the lot with Míriel cradled in one arm, spotted Níri, and told him what we were here for. The apothecary looked back and forth between us, shaking his head and waiting for the end of the joke. Giriel pushed through to stand beside me.

“I’ll stand you an ale if you do mine first,” she said with her usual directness.

“The ale comes after he does everyone’s, and he’ll do mine first,” I told her. “You need to see what you’re getting into before you do the getting into. Where’s Rhiannel with the drawing?”

The drawing was handed to Níri. The apothecary studied it, nodding and rubbing his chin. “All right, but which one of you drew this?”

Rhiannel was duly shoved forward. Níri beckoned him to sit down. “You’ve got a good hand. So you draw the lines where they’re to go, and I’ll make the marks.”

I gave Míriel to Tauriel, rolled up my sleeve, and sat next to Rhiannel. With Níri at his shoulder, he traced the small design on my right wrist lengthwise, as if the Warg ran towards my hand, right side up as I looked at it. The room was silent as the Elves hovered, watching, and someone passed me the requisite mug of ale to ease the sting of Níri’s needle. As the tiny drops of blood welled up, the Elves murmured in concern.

“It’s not bad.” I kept my wrist still and drank my ale nonchalantly while Níri plied his needle. “Stings a bit, that’s all; right, Tauriel?”

When Níri was done, he nodded to me. I poured a bit of my ale over the mark to wash off the blood, then he rubbed in the charcoal powder. The Elves crowded in to see, which meant Níri couldn’t see.

“Back up, you lot,” I told them, and they did until Níri could make sure he had the design properly filled. I held it out for everyone to examine. “See? It’s a clean mark. Níri’s quick and neat. Now, before you do the next one, Níri, put a small G rune above the Warg’s head, like a crown. For Grimmaz.” As Níri added the tiny rune, I said, “That’s special to mine, all right? Because I rode Grimmaz.”

“Fair enough,” Giriel agreed. “Kíli is the king of Warg riders. Now, I am next!”

Rhiannel set to drawing our mark on Giriel’s wrist while Níri finished mine, then I moved out of the way. One by one, Rhiannel drew our mark, and Níri came behind to set it in charcoal. Níri marked Rhiannel so that he’d bear our mark on the right wrist like the rest of us; Tauriel and I had put our runes on our left wrists, as Dwarves believed that the left hand was closest to the heart, which seemed appropriate.

I was proud to see that each of the Elves sat for the mark. They even drank the ale, though some poured more over their mark than others. It took a couple of hours for Níri to do them all, so the whole affair turned into an extension of the party that had begun in our home. Then it grew to a bigger party as word spread about what we were up to in the common room, and all the Dwarves trickled in to join us. While Níri set Tauriel’s mark, I looked up to see Giriel admiring hers and nodding as a grizzled old Dwarf told her about the campaign in which he’d gotten his first mark. Rhiannel was playing chess with Ferrisch with _Maamr_ looking on, Fallin and Drennal were playing with Míriel and Troli as they told the Dwarf about how we’d named ourselves the Orc Spawn, and Tethrandil and a pair of Dwarves were tossing slender throwing knives at the dartboard. Maybe this whole Dwarvish/Elvish accord would work, after all.

As promised, Giriel stood Níri a mug of ale when we were all marked, and we wound down with a final glass of something, be it wine or ale. Some of us, me included, had to stand duty in the morning, and it was late. The eve ended on a good note, and so far, no one regretted having a needle jabbed repeatedly into the arm. We walked back home together, in good spirits. No one was drunk, though I was relaxed after my couple of mugs of ale. We called goodnight in the courtyard, and all went inside to rest.

Of course, there were still the remains of our party to clean up, but with three of us working, it took little time. Tauriel sent me to wash first, since I had early duty, so I bid _Maamr_ goodnight and washed quickly. I was almost asleep when Tauriel slipped in to put Míriel into her cradle, then lie down beside me.

“Hmm,” I mumbled, eyes still closed, but I didn’t need eyes to find my way around my wife’s long body. “I thought I’d be bored waiting for that letter to return from Lothlórien, but that hasn’t been true, has it? So far, I’ve smithed a present for my unknown father, talked my wife into getting a tattoo, had a party, enticed the Orc Spawn to get clan tattoos, and now I’m about to couple with the most beautiful Elf warrior maid beyond belief. This is better than celebrating the end of a war.”

Tauriel laughed. “Just how many wars have you celebrated the end of?”

“At least three. It’s hard to keep the count straight.” I eased atop my wife, joined us, and set to pleasing us both. “I didn’t get to couple with a maid at the end of any of them, so this is better by far.”

“I thought you were worried about getting enough sleep before early duty.”

 “That’s tomorrow. This is today, and you are too delicious to resist.”

“I hope you swore at something today. That would mean you’ve done all your favorite activities in a single day.”

I grinned. “I have. Good thing, too, or I’d have to proposition you to do something quite depraved to me. Not that you could. Everything you do to me is quite wonderful. Oh and oh, especially... especially that.”

“And what about this?”

“Valar, Tauriel! I was wrong. That’s depraved. Exquisitely so.”

“Is it?”

“No Elf should know how to... stop it, or I’ll... I’ll... oh, don’t stop it. Please, don’t stop it. Keep doing it, and I’ll... oh, Valar, Tauriel! I have!”

“I know.”

I lay atop my wife, who wore an entirely too smug smile. So I rewarded her for it in an equally decadent way, so that when we both lay back, we both had reason to smile so smugly.

Duty would come much too soon, but every time I yawned tomorrow, I’d grin knowing why.

 

* * *

 

Besides knives, clan marks, and parties, the only other excitement, if that was the word for it, concerned _Maamr’s_ negotiations with Lord Elrond on behalf of the emigrating Dwarves. At night she kept me abreast of the details, and after a week or so – thankfully after I’d finished my knives – I joined the discussions with the high lord. They had worked out fair terms about lodging, stabling, fodder, food, and so forth within Imladris. I was amused to see that they’d require all the émigrés to listen to me lecture them about how to treat with Elves and why they should. I expected some head knocking would be needed to punctuate my words on occasion, but I could sort that out myself without having it negotiated for me.

An interesting addition came at the end – because the lands to the east were home to prickly folk, my mother was willing to require the emigrating Dwarves to pay a guarantee of good behavior before they ever left the Blue Mountains, which would grant them a paper to show anyone who might ask that they’d agreed to behave. They’d be refused the paper if they didn’t pay, and wouldn’t receive the benefit of all the negotiated fees and rates that _Maamr_ and Lord Elrond had agreed to for them. Misbehavior from anyone, whether they had the paper or not, made them subject to whatever penalty the injured chose to inflict on them.

 I had my doubts about that sticking, knowing the entrenched habit of the most stubborn Dwarves to act up just to show that they could when it suited them. I also thought more than a few would just set out east on their own, and to hell with their counselors, much less the folk whose lands they needed to cross. Many might choose to travel as my mother had when she’d gone to Erebor for the funerals of my uncle and brother. She’d come across the steppes, through the Misty Mountains south of the Ettenmoors, and around the northern edge of the Woodland Realm, but it was a longer way, and much more dangerous given how much closer it was to the Orcs.

“What if the Dwarves stay to the south?” I ventured, trying not to shrink in my chair when _Maamr_ , Lord Elrond, and Lindir all turned to look at me. This was my first taste of helping to negotiate a formal agreement, and I didn’t want to make a fool out of myself. “I think I remember Gandalf saying that the Beornings hold the ford at Carrock and north of that. Tauriel said that King Thranduil’s folk are mostly in the north of Mirkwood. So if the Dwarves went across the Misty Mountains, crossed the Anduin at the Old Ford, and then went through Mirkwood on the Old Forest Road, then at least our folk would stay out of the way most of the time.”

“That would be a prudent route,” Lord Elrond agreed, “at least to pass the Beornings by. But the Forest Road, as you found out, Kíli, is in poor repair, and the forest is treacherous.”

I looked at _Maamr_. “What if we offered the Elves help to rebuild the path? Dwarvish axes could easily help to clear the way. The path itself is mostly stonework, and if the Elves helped to keep the Dwarves on the path, and helped with the rations during the building, we could set the stone right, and rebuild the bridge over the enchanted river. Then the way would be clear so that the Dwarves could see themselves through Mirkwood without disturbing the Elves, and the Elves would have use of the road, too.”

My mother considered that. “That could work. We could send masons in plenty as the first émigrés.”

“What if the Elves don’t agree?” Lindir asked.

I exhaled. “It’d be good of them if they would. But if they don’t... it’s their land. We’ll have to head north from here, on the west face of the Misty Mountains, find a pass in the north, then pass north of the Beornings, slip between the Grey Mountains and Mirkwood, and finally drop south to Erebor.” I grimaced. “If it comes to that, then many Dwarves will see no reason to stop in Imladris, though the northern route will be much more dangerous.”

“A lot of the warriors would agree with you,” Maamr nodded. “But that’s one of the reasons why I want to be back in Thorin’s Halls before winter, so I have time to see if we can be more sensible about this. If we can convince the warriors to accompany the families, they will all be safer. But families would benefit from an easier road, and that is what retracing your route to the Blue Mountains is, Kíli. Rivendell would be a respite before braving the forest.”

“I think staying south of the Beornings would be wise.” Lord Elrond pointed to the Last Ford. "The path from the Misty Mountains to the Old Ford is straight, and would not tempt many to divert from it, which disturbs the Beornings less. If we can persuade the Woodland Realm to improve the road through Mirkwood, with help or without it, it would benefit all travelers, and again, cause less friction between our folk.”

“What if the Woodland Realm wants to charge a toll?” I asked. “For using the road through the forest, I mean.”

My mother grinned. “I would. Even with Dwarves to help, it’ll be a costly undertaking. And the Dwarves will be captive trade, in no position to refuse the toll.”

“But they will, and then there will be fights, and then the stir goes up again,” I replied, rubbing my temples. Sorting out statecraft was touchy work, and it seemed never to run out of things that could go wrong.

Lindir swallowed, drawing my eyes. “What, Lindir? Do you have an idea?”

He swallowed again. “Please, Dís, do not be upset at my question. But... there is a lot of the dragon’s hoard in Erebor, yes?”

 _Maamr_ narrowed her eyes. “Go on.”

Poor Lindir, having to endure my mother’s piercing stare. She’d gotten more than one spontaneous confession out of Fíli and me when we were small, just by turning that stare on us. For one who’d never seen it before, it was doubly intimidating.

“Suppose the Woodland Realm does impose a toll. Erebor and the seat of King Thranduil are not so far apart, no? So rather than collect the toll from each caravan of Dwarves directly, which would risk frequent disagreements, suppose the Elves kept count of how many caravans there were, and then applied to Erebor for the appropriate recompense? If the place to count were at the easternmost edge of the forest, then there could be Dwarves stationed there as well as Elves, to make sure the counts from both folk agree.”

Laughing, my mother bowed to Lindir. “Excellent idea – let the powers haggle about the money, and leave the émigrés alone. So you were asking about the dragon’s hoard just to learn if Erebor had funds to pay the toll rather than the émigrés.”

“I was, yes,” Lindir assured her. “If not, then I would not have suggested the counting.”

“Understood.”

“That is a good alternative,” Lord Elrond agreed. “But then, we are not the ones who must agree to it.” He shot me a look. “I do think we will have to journey to the Woodland Realm after all, Kíli.”

I tried not to grin in relief. “Yes, sir, it does seem so.”

“So now the question is who should accompany us? Kíli, what are your thoughts?”

I exhaled. “You know this business a lot better than I do, sir, so I bow to your thoughts on it. If everything were equal, I’d say that Tauriel would stand us in good stead because she knows the kingdom as well as the king so well. But you know that King Thranduil banished her, in large part because of me. He might not let her enter his kingdom even as part of our group.”

“He might not,” Lord Elrond agreed.

“But if he did...” I hesitated, then plunged on. “If she went, and some of the Orc Spawn, too, we’d have several Elves who were used to working with Dwarves, and maybe that would persuade him that an accord is possible, and good for us both. I think he likes to see results, not questions, and so we could be proof of what we claim. Tauriel and I could bring Míriel, too, if that would help. Oh, I know, a bairn isn’t statecraft, but she’s the perfect example of our folk getting along. Eh... I don’t know. Maybe that would only make him angry, if he sees Míriel as a travesty.”

“I shall give it serious thought,” Lord Elrond decided, but then his lips twitched. “I think I will include Lindir in our expedition, at any rate.”

“Me?” the Elf squeaked, then gulped.

“Of course. You have had many good ideas, and you have recorded our work for us quickly and accurately. That will appeal to King Thranduil, I think, when we record whatever we agree to. And it will be broadening for you.”

“Yes, my lord.” Lindir’s voice was faint, and he straightened his papers in distraction.

“Has there been no word from Lothlórien, Lord Elrond?” my mother asked.

The high lord shook his head. “Not as of yet. My messengers were to remain there until an answer was ready. I am hopeful of an answer soon.”

He stood up. “Kíli, Lindir, you have both given me many things to consider today, and so I would like to do. Lady Dís, if you would stay behind the others so that we may consult a bit longer, I would be happy of it.”

That was the gentle hint for Lindir and me to leave the real discussion to my mother and the high lord, so I slid out of my chair and made my bow. “Thank you, sir. I’m happy to help however you’d like me to.”

I followed Lindir out. Lord Elrond’s aide still looked apprehensive. I patted his back gently, not enough to jostle him. “It’ll be all right, Lindir. If the Orc Spawn go, we’ll take good care of you. It won’t be so bad. And you’re very good with all the recording. You do a much better job of that than anyone, and I’m sure it’ll impress King Thranduil very much.”

Lindir brightened at that. “That’s good to know. I’ll manage the Elves, I think. What are the Beornings like?”

I stifled a snort. “I’ve just met the one,” I said evasively. “He’s a very large man. Very tall and very strong. He can turn himself into a bear.”

“A... bear.” Lindir’s apprehension was back. “What kind of a bear?”

“A... very large bear,” I conceded. “A very large, very unpredictable bear. Gandalf was rather leery of him, I admit. It took a good bit of talking to get Beorn to decide he wasn’t going to bite our heads off. But I wouldn’t worry, Lindir. He has a good opinion of Elves... I think.”

“I see,” Lindir sat at his desk looking a bit wilted. “I see.”

“I don’t think Lord Elrond would bring you along if he were worried, Lindir. And he knows how good you are with... papers, and such.”

Lindir gave me a resigned look. I shrugged.

“We’ll muddle through. I wish you good luncheon.”

“Good luncheon,” Lindir said mechanically.

I grinned to myself as I walked towards home. I didn’t think Lindir would have much stomach for luncheon. Maybe not for dinner, either.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> We hear from Lothlorien at last, and the upcoming journey takes shape.
> 
> Hope you enjoy developments!

_The Elvish lord rode out to meet with the master of his estate, who two days ago had sent a party of retainers to help clear the road. Too many brigands made use of the rough thickets to accost unsuspecting folk as they traveled. Complaints and fear were as thick as the underbrush, which had been left untouched for longer than anyone remembered. All with lands along the road had offered hands to clear the way, as well as riders to make up the road guard._

_The expense of such an undertaking was dear, even for the lords of the land. To give up the work of his retainers for the good of travelers was necessary, and the lord intended that he would meet his obligation for each inch of the road allotted to him – and not one inch more. He was already wincing at the amount of time his retainers had to spend at this task. They had important work to do for him that took precedence over the comfort of wandering travelers._

_When he reached the site of the clearing, his estate master assured him that half of the work was done, and the rest would be in another two days. Four days! The work of four days lost! He didn’t snap at his estate master, for clearing both sides of two miles of road so thoroughly in just two days was a brisk clip, even in the pleasant coolness of fall. But he stressed the need for pragmatism and speed, and turned to retrace his horse’s path back to his estate._

_What was that? Just to the edge of the piled brush? It looked like a small leather bag. Curiosity got him out of the saddle to fetch the thing. The leather was almost rotted through; no telling how long it had lain there, or why. Peeking through the decayed skin glimmered smooth metal._

_An ingot of gold fell into his hands. It was solid, substantial. A prize, indeed! More than enough to offset the work of his retainers five times over._

_He let the shreds of old leather fall to the ground, slipped the ingot inside his purse, and remounted his horse. He urged his horse to a canter. He already had the perfect plan for the gold._

_* * *_

 

Word came that Lord Elrond’s messengers to Lothlórien had returned two weeks after Kil and I had found the necklace. Considering the messengers had traveled four hundred and fifty miles to go to and from the Lady Galadriel’s forest, they’d made very fast time. That time, however, had weighed heavily on Kili, and not just because we was an impatient Dwarf.

He was worried about me, of course.

I didn’t mention the necklace after he hid it, but it preoccupied me. No, that wasn’t true; it wasn’t the thing itself that preoccupied me, but what it had done to me.

I had spent five hundred years, half a millennium, alone in the midst of the Elves of the Woodland Realm. Through the most outrageous good fortune and the audacity of a young Dwarf, I was bereft no longer. Kíli and I had survived the horrific battle for Erebor, and had made a new home in Imladris where we shared warmth, love, a sweet babe, dear friends, and good purpose. I treasured nothing more. Then a single glimpse of a poisoned necklace had stripped me of all thoughts but lust for that mere thing, which could have taken all I loved from me, and at my own hand. That had unnerved me. Now it shamed me. Despite Kíli’s assurances, and even my own, I couldn’t accept this as merely the evil it was. It felt like internal weakness – _my_ moral failure, _my_ personal betrayal. If anything, Kíli’s worried reassurances made me feel more ashamed, because he reminded me of how much we had.

Perhaps the insidious nature of dragon sickness also caused my self-loathing. I hoped that was so.

So to finally receive word from Lothlórien, then, meant that maybe we were one step closer to finding a way to destroy this threat.

I received word of the messengers’ arrival in mid afternoon. I had just arrived home after spending the early morning on patrol, then at Master Oteriel’s captains’ meeting. I’d also stopped at the market hoping for fish for supper, but had found only chicken at this late hour. I’d just fetched Míriel from Drennal’s company and had her in my arms when Lindir knocked at the door.

“ _Aaye_ , Lindir,” I called. “Please, come in. How are you?”

“ _Aaye_ , Tauriel,” he gave me a nod. “I am well, but I ask you to forgive my haste. The messengers from Lothlórien have returned. Is Kíli in, as well?”

“He’s on patrol, due back at the armory within the hour. Do you want me to fetch him?”

“Lord Elrond is calling for all of us as soon as we can get there, so if you would go to his chambers now, I will find Kili. How soon can you come?”

“I will get Míriel’s things, and come now.”

“If you would, I would be grateful.”

“I’ll see you shortly, then.”

The Elf hurried away with a quick wave, so I put on a clean tunic, collected Míriel and her things, and shut the door behind me. It took little time to reach Lord Elrond’s chambers.

Dís was already inside, and greeted me warmly as Lord Elrond turned to face me. Two Elves were with him.

“Welcome, Tauriel, and little Miriel,” Lord Elrond held his hand out to me in greeting. “Thank you for coming so quickly. Here are Eirinon and Calinniel, the messengers who brought the word we have anticipated so eagerly.”

I put my hand to my heart and bowed to the two Elves. Eirinon had chestnut hair and eyes, and though he looked no older than any other Elf in the city, he carried himself with calm gravity, so was likely much older than I. Calinniel I knew slightly; she had come to a few of my maids’ classes, and was quite capable in the arts of combat. She had dark hair and striking blue eyes, and seemed lighter, if no less formidable, than her comrade. Both wore dusty and travel-stained clothing, so they’d just arrived from their long trip. Their messenger bags were both on the table, and sheets of parchment lay open beside them.

“Kíli is still on patrol, but he is due in shortly. Lindir has gone down to the armory to wait for him.”

“Thank you,” Lord Elrond said, and we chatted with the messengers for a few moments while Lord Elrond stepped out briefly. Once again he impressed me with his courtesy, for two Elves shortly appeared bearing trays of food and drink for the messengers as well as Kíli. Calinniel and Eirinon gratefully ate their fill while they reported to Lord Elrond. These two messengers were two of Lord Elrond’s most trusted. It was clear from the scraps I heard that they knew something of our interest in more than the Lady Alathiel, but also in dragon sickness, though they did not speak of the necklace. Their usual efficiency in dispatching their duties was not the only reason for their speed; it seemed that Lothlórien was just as alarmed to answer our questions as we had been to pose them. But I was content to listen with Dís until Kíli and Lindir arrived.

Lord Elrond had just dismissed the messengers when Lindir arrived with Kíli in tow. My husband was still armored and armed, so quickly had he come from the stable, though he’d left his helmet behind. It had been a warm day, so he looked relieved to see the big carafe of water on the table. But Kíli addressed his duty first, and greeted Lord Elrond with a proper bow, and his mother with a kiss. He contented himself with quick kisses on the cheek for Míriel and me before he gave Lord Elrond his full attention.

“Please, Kíli, be at ease,” Lord Elrond beckoned. “You’ve just come off duty, so avail yourself of refreshment.”

“I thank you, sir.” Kíli unabashedly loaded a plate, filled a glass to the brim with water, and sat next to me, giving me a quick wink before he set to. The rest of us followed suit, and I gave Míriel her squeaky ball to gum.

“I am grateful to Eirinon and Calinniel for their speedy and safe return to Imladris after their long journey,” Lord Elrond began. “The Lady Galadriel was most concerned at our questions, as you will hear from her reply.”

The high lord picked up one of the parchments and began to read from it. “ ‘Your questions of Alathiel have recalled the tragic events of a millennium ago, upon the occasion of her wedding, a wedding that never was.

“ ‘Alathiel’s mother was from Imladris, as you know. She moved to Lothlórien, the home of her husband, and it was Alathiel’s habit to spend time in both realms. After a long courtship with an Elf of this realm, they were to be wed. Several days before the ceremony, however, some disagreement arose that left Alathiel’s parents, her youngest sister, and her husband-to-be dead, as well as several servants and retainers. This was doubly tragic, as the family had long lived in harmony, and I wondered if some outside influence could have been at play. I spoke with Alathiel before she returned to Imladris, never to visit her mother’s land again. She was most distraught, but also strangely reticent, so I learned little other than an Elf visiting from the Woodland Realm had asked to pay court to her, to whom she of course revealed her upcoming wedding. It was her suspicion that the visitor had taken her demurral badly. All I know of him is that he was an alchemist in his own realm, here to study our archives. He departed close to one hundred years before the wedding was to have been held, clearly not enough time for such a grudge to dissipate, if he in fact held one.’”

Kíli smothered an incredulous snort in his water glass. That a hundred years could pass between betrothal and wedding ceremony was something he found laughable, and a waste of good years between wife and husband. That a grudge could last so long, though, I’m sure he understood, knowing the passion of his folk.

“ ‘The matter your messengers spoke of would explain much of Alathiel’s silence, as well as the tragedy. Without doubt, it could cause such sudden discord as left so many of her family as well as her _a’maelamin_ dead. I regret that I have no name of this visiting alchemist. I suspect that you are right about the secondary nature of what we speak. King Thranduil to the north is learned in such things, but I advise caution. If one of his folk was the one to set this tragedy in motion, he may yet live, and he may yet reside within the Woodland Realm. Take steps to consult with the king in complete privacy.’”

Lord Elrond looked up from the parchment. “ ‘The matter your messengers spoke of’ refers to dragon sickness. ‘The secondary nature’ refers to Lindir’s question of whether dragon’s gold might take on the aspect of others. I chose not to include written word of that in my letter, but bade them speak to Lady Galadriel in private. They confirmed that Lady Galadriel understands the nature of what we deal with, if not the form.”

Dís tapped her fingers on the tabletop, her face grim. “The rejected suitor could have sent the necklace for spite, because Alathiel rejected him.”

Lord Elrond nodded. “I thought likewise.”

Lindir had listened to Lord Elrond’s recitation with hands folded on the table, staring at them as he listened. “Alathiel lived here, as did her mother. Her father was from Lothlórien. She was in Lothlórien for her wedding. Let us say that the necklace arrived, and as soon as it was opened, the tragedy unfolded. Alathiel survived, then spoke no word of the cause of the tragedy. So I think she realized how dangerous it was, and held silence to protect those around her.”

“Then she returned here with the necklace, sealed it away, and never spoke of it,” I took up Lindir’s imagined tale. “I think you are right. She did not know how to destroy it, so she hid it. Lord Elrond, you said she died in a riding accident?”

He nodded.

“But she had intended to sail?” I went on.

He nodded again.

“So she died before she could do anything about the necklace,” Lindir mused. “She had guarded it for so long; I think she would have not willingly left it untended.”

I thought Lindir was right. I also thought that all the books he had read over the centuries had given him a better understanding of the nature of folk than he realized.

“Alathiel was a gentle soul, and it would not surprise me that you read her intentions correctly, Lindir,” Lord Elrond agreed.

“So what do we do now?” the pragmatic Dís asked.

Lord Elrond smiled as he folded his hands in front of him on the table. “I believe, Dís, that several of us are about to accompany Imladris’ ambassador at large for all things Dwarvish as he negotiates his first treaties for your folk.”

To Kíli’s credit, he didn’t gulp; rather, his lips quirked up in a crooked grin. “I’d better go to the market, then.”

“What for?” I asked.

“I have to find suitable presents for a very large bear, and a very tall Elf King. I don’t think a box of sweets will do the trick in either case.”

“Likely not,” I agreed, when laughter met his wry comment.

“If anyone’s got a brilliant suggestion, I’m glad of it,” Kíli went on. “Though... Beorn didn’t seem the type to want presents. He just wanted to be left alone. As for King Thranduil... I could offer to weed a few more beds in his _Glawar-galad_ , I suppose.”

Of course, Lord Elrond and Lindir didn’t know about the _Glawar-galad_ , so I explained how Kíli had come to rediscover the Woodland Realm’s wondrous cavern garden. If we ventured there, both Lord Elrond and Lindir were interested to see it.

Dís brought us back to the topic at hand. “I’ll leave the question of presents in Kíli’s hands. I’ll be sure to send suitable funds for such things with the first group of émigrés that travels, for likely they will be needed now and again. I’m expecting to start for Thorin’s Halls in a day or two, to have the best chance of avoiding the winter snows, whenever they begin. I do hate a mystery unsolved, though, so when you solve the riddle of the necklace and what to do about it, I’ll hold you to sending me word.”

“Perhaps you’ll decide to emigrate and find out for yourself,” I smiled.

“That’s right,” Kíli nodded. “If you don’t want to go all the way to Erebor, you can stay with us.”

“You would be welcome,” Lord Elrond agreed, smiling.

Dís waved her hands. “And meddle in my son’s duties as ambassador? I think not. Dain offered me a place on his council when I was there for the funeral ceremonies. I’d like that.”

“Dain will benefit from your council,” was Lord Elrond’s assessment. “Now, I charge you all to consider what we have learned. If something strikes you, please let the rest of us know. In my turn, I will consider who should accompany Kíli and me on our journey to Beorn and King Thranduil.”

“May I ask two more questions, sir?” Kíli asked politely.

“Of course.”

“The first one is whether you think we should take the necklace with us to see King Thranduil.”

“What are your thoughts, Kíli?”

“I don’t think we should, sir. It’d be safer to take a drawing of it instead. If the alchemist is still in the Woodland Realm, then he might sense it if we show it to the king, and we don’t know what he might do. If we let this thing loose in King Thranduil’s kingdom, and the Nandor are the most susceptible to it, then that would make us no better than whoever set it among Alathiel’s family. I would find that hard to live with.”

“A valid point. On the other hand, it may be that Thranduil cannot help us without seeing it.”

“Truth, sir. It’s just...” Kíli looked at me, then back at Lord Elrond. “What this necklace did to Tauriel was terrible. I don’t want anyone else to be so plagued.”

“I will take that into my consideration. And your other question?”

Again Kíli looked at me. “I’m sorry, _amrâlimê_ , but I have to say this.”

I nodded, expecting what he was about to address.

“It’s likely thirty to forty miles through Mirkwood to reach King Thranduil’s cavern stronghold, and the forest is treacherous. Maybe it won’t affect Imladris Elves the way it affected Dwarves, but it was sickening. Even if I’m the only one affected by the forest, we’ll need Tauriel who knows the path to get us to the king. But you know he banished Tauriel from the Woodland Realm. Will he understand our need for her guidance and forgive her presence, or be angry because she helped us despite being banished?”

Lord Elrond nodded approvingly. “An excellent question. Tauriel, can you offer us guidance?”

I swallowed and tried for a dispassionate tone. “I suspect he will not be tolerant, my lord. Prince Legolas told me that he admitted he was rash to call for Kíli’s assassination –”

Dís didn’t bother to squelch an angry sniff.

“– but I do not expect him to forgive me for what I said to him on the field of battle. My words were... harsh.”

Lord Elrond regarded me with compassion. “I will consider the best path for us, then. We will meet again once I have weighed our choices.”

We bade Lord Elrond and Lindir farewell, and as it was nearing suppertime, Dís came come with Kíli, Míriel, and me. Kíli’s arm went around my waist to give me a comforting hug.

“I’m sorry, _amrâlimê_. I didn’t say what I said to hurt you.”

I sighed. “You were right to say it, Kíli. It won’t help to remind the king of what I said to him on the field of battle during your negotiation with him. It will only hurt the Dwarves’ position.”

“What did you say?” Dís asked, shouldering Míriel’s bag of things.

I swallowed.

“Go on and tell her,” Kíli prodded. “She’ll say you were right.”

I exhaled. “As your mother, yes. As a counselor, no.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” Dís said. “Did he really try to assassinate Kíli?”

“He did.” I explained why, drawing Dís’s sniff. “On the battlefield, when I told him about the second army of Orcs, he would have withdrawn. I called him a coward for it, and said he shouldn’t look so dimly at mortals, for they loved, as he did not. That incensed him, and he intended to kill me for the temerity to love Kíli. So I called him a coward and a murderer for threatening me. He might well have struck me down, but Legolas stopped him. It was Legolas’s return to the battle that kept the king from withdrawing, rather than anything I said. He wouldn’t risk the death of his son by withdrawing.”

Dís hummed. “Harsh words, indeed,” she conceded. “And yes, I appreciate your words as Kíli’s mother. As a counselor...” she shrugged. “In the heat of war, perhaps such harshness was all that could penetrate the chaos of the battlefield.”

“Kíli has heard me say this before,” I replied. “The guard of the Woodland Realm has a saying – ‘Better to be right as an aside rather than straight ahead.’ I was quite straight ahead, and the king will not be quick to forgive that.”

Dís chuckled ruefully. “Aye, I know that saying well, lass. ’T is true often enough.”

“And there’s nothing to be done about it now,” Kíli consoled me with another hug. “Let’s forget about it for now, and worry about whether it’s better to have fish for supper, or chicken.”

“Chicken,” I said. “There was no fish at the market as late as I reached it.”

“I’d rather have that tonight, anyway,” Kíli said, still trying to ease me. “Cut up and baked in crumbs, perhaps?”

“That sounds good,” Dís agreed.

“Then the evening’s dilemma is solved,” I said lightly, appreciating the support of my husband and his mother. Whatever Lord Elrond decided about me, I resolved to accept it in good grace. I had the regard of the people I most cared about, and that was enough.

 

* * *

 

Tauriel was in the kitchen, making the chicken in crumbs, so _Maamr_ and I took Míriel into the garden to rest while our supper baked. I fetched a bottle of wine and glasses for us to share, as well as the knives I’d forged. I brought the collection into the garden, and poured my mother a glass as she sat on the cushioning pad with Míriel. She accepted the glass with a nod of thanks, then eyed the bundle in my hand.

I sat down beside her and handed her the bundle. “I have something to I’d like you to take back to Thorin’s Halls for me.”

 _Maamr_ sat her glass on the table to unwrap the matched knives. She touched the engraving on each one with appreciative fingers. “Did you make these?”

I nodded, sipping my wine, drawing Míriel into my lap when she tried to reach for the blades. “No, little one. They’re not for you.”

“They’re well done, both of them. Who are they for?”

“My father.”

 _Maamr’s_ eyes locked on mine.

“I still don’t care who he is, _Maamr_. If he still lives, and if he’s back in Thorin’s Halls, and if you choose to see him again, I hope you’ll give him these, with my compliments. Tell him I thank him for the gift of my life, and that I’ve done well for myself. If he’s passed on, then you can keep them to remind you of father and son.”

 _Maamr_ didn’t say anything, but she stroked the vine engraved on the one knife. That was likely the clearest answer I’d ever get from her. She met my eyes again, revealing nothing but her love for me. She touched her forehead to mine, and stroked my hair.

“You are the best of sons,” she murmured.

I kissed her cheek with a grin, but was smart enough not to offer any comment. After all the trouble I’d given her as a mischievous bairn, then as a reluctant prince, I didn’t want to remind her of either.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> We learn a little more about the dragon's gold, and then enjoy a little domesticity with Kili, Tauriel, and Miriel. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the tragedy as well as the small joys.

_The ingot stayed in the lord’s treasury while the lord commissioned designs for a wondrous necklace. He did this in secret – he had no intention of letting anyone know of it, not even his wife, until his infant daughter’s far-off wedding day. For now, he was content to let the gold lie while draftsmen drew the designs of one necklace after another. None of them quite captured the essence he wanted, until he noticed the drawings of one of the muralists painting the frescoes in his daughter’s nursery. They held the lightness, the grace, and the beauty that his daughter already possessed. The muralist listened to his lord’s desires, and in the first set of sketches, the lord found his perfect design. Long strands of dreamflowers, his wife’s favorite blossom and reminder of her birth in Lothlórien long ago, interwove into a graceful circlet, with adamant and the rarest rose rubies for the blossoms and buds. The gold would be mixed with silver to lend a green cast to the stems and leaves, and with copper and silver to tint the gold holding the rose rubies to pink. The clasp would be a single oversized dreamflower blossom._

_The muralist drew the lord’s design in painstaking detail, and told him of a Dwarvish smith who could form gold and gems into such an intricate and delicate design. The lord followed his artist’s advice, and though the price was severe, his gem of a daughter deserved no less._

_When the Dwarf completed the necklace, the lord secreted it in his most private vault to await the far-off marriage day._

_Decades passed, then centuries. The lord’s daughter was in no hurry to choose a mate, for she loved the freedom to pursue her interests without tie or fetter. But during her long stays in the land of her mother’s birth, she found the one, and so the date was set._

_Her father rejoiced, though it meant that his much-loved daughter would leave his estate for permanent residence in Lothlórien. He consoled himself that visits back and forth would be frequent, for it was never anything but a joy to visit the blessed realm._

_The necklace, though... the necklace. He had not forgotten about that part of his daughter’s legacy that must now leave his vault and travel to Lothlórien. Years had passed uncounted where he had left the necklace undisturbed in its padded box. But in the past century or two, he’d found his thoughts straying to it more often. At first, it was enough just to take it out and look at it, resplendent with beautiful colored gold and gleaming gems, and smile to think what his daughter would make of it when he presented it to her. But then he began to worry that it gift was too extravagant, and perhaps it was not appropriate to give his daughter such a treasure. She would not appreciate it as he did, not knowing how the gold had been worked and shaped and molded, then set with such rare gems as he did. Then he considered whether the gems were worthy of such exquisite gold, and perhaps the gold would have been better left unsullied with other metals to tint it such superficial colors. But he had designed the spray of flowers for his daughter, and so perhaps it was best to leave the necklace as it was, however imperfect compared to the perfection of the gold. He would keep it with him to find the perfect moment to present it to his daughter. If she didn’t accept it with enthusiasm, he could always take it back to his vault, where he would keep it safe._

_But the lord never found the right moment to give the necklace to his daughter, until the night before her wedding day. It lay heavy and glistening in his hand as he brought it out of his tunic, and almost he shoved it back in its pocket. But his daughter saw it gleaming, and sweetly exclaimed over it, and so he reluctantly revealed it. Both she and his wife thought it beautiful beyond words, and his daughter’s kisses were many and heartfelt. So he had let the necklace go with her as she retired to her bedchamber for her last night as an unmarried maid._

_All night, the lord was awake, worrying about the necklace. What if his daughter lost it traveling to Lothlórien? What if it were stolen? What if she chose to sell it in the future? The lord suffered the deepest anxiety. But his daughter was too careful to lose things, and too prudent to be robbed, and loved him too much to sell such a wonderful gift. So he managed to endure the night._

_As his daughter appeared with her husband-to-be for the ceremony, the lord saw the beautiful necklace at her throat, the gems gleaming and sparkling, but even they could not outshine the allure of the gold holding the gems. It was perfect, impervious, pure. Compelling. Why had he been so foolish to give it away, even to his daughter? It belonged in his vault, where its perfection would never be in danger._

_He managed to quell his urge to snatch the necklace from his daughter’s throat during the ceremony. But when the dancing started, and his daughter’s new husband dared to touch the necklace, the lord found no restraint. He plunged through the crowd. How dare his son-in-law sully a thing of such rare beauty, of such utter perfection? He would see that dishonor purged from his halls, in blood if need be!_

_His daughter screamed a warning in time, and the lord’s knife only grazed her husband’s arm. They had time to flee before the lord found his sword._

 

* * *

 

 _Maamr_ and the Dwarves were packing up to return to the Blue Mountains. Of course, that meant a party – several, as it turned out. The Dwarves had been frequent visitors to our block already, visiting with Tauriel, Míriel, _Maamr_ , and me as well as the other Orc Spawn, but we wanted at least one last rousing gathering. The Orc Spawn opted for a communal party around the central courtyard, so as to minimize the carnage any one of us would likely incur just from thrown cakes alone. Even so, it was replete with red meat and lots of ale, in addition to cakes. We had laughter and songs, both sublime and profane.

Míriel was in her element. It would be a sad day when she realized that all parties were not given solely for her delight. But for now, she had twenty raucous uncles to moon over her, feel the first teeth that were just appearing, and crawl around in the dirt with her as she played with the menagerie of wooden animals so many of them had carved for her. She gave a few of them reason to yelp, too, when she discovered their mustaches; I thought of Fíli, and wished he were here to be one of them. He would have been the best of uncles.

Not to be outdone, the Dwarves threw their own party, and it was a glorious affair. In addition to the Orc Spawn, Lord Elrond, Master Oteriel, and Lindir came down to the inn the Dwarves had adopted, and the festivities racketed on for most of the night. _Maamr,_ Lindir, and Lord Elrond retired before things got too out of hand, and I shooed the rest of the Elves out soon after, even the Orc Spawn. There were songs to be sung in _Khazuduhl_ that were not suitable for maids’ ears, too much ale to drink, pipeweed to smoke, the most outrageous boasts to make and claims to dispute, and worse things than cakes to throw. It wasn’t that I was concerned about what my adopted clan might think about the goings on. It might a very long time before I had the privilege to savor the company of so many Dwarvish friends again, if ever. What’s more, this might well be the last time I’d see most of these folk, and Dwarves can get maudlin at such times, in and around sparring matches.

 I woke up under a bench, sore, stinking, and happy after such a wonderful night. I sorted out my arms and legs, shoved the still snoring Troli off my shoulder, wrung the ale out of my hair, and scraped the worst of the stew off my shirt. I remembered to pick up the box Níri had given me before traipsing slowly home.

Tauriel met me at the door. She took the box I fumbled at her, and followed as I reeled more or less steadily towards the bathing chamber, picking up the clothes I shed along the way. I climbed in with a sigh, mumbled a hazy hello, and just registered her indulgent smile before I fell asleep.

Some time later, I woke to the sound of rustling and mumbling. I pried my eyes open, squinting at the bright light streaming down. I was in water. Valar, I needed to piss! I hoped I was in a river, so I could just let it go without having to move, and without anyone being the wiser. Oh, that’s right. I wasn’t in a river. I was in a bathing tub. My bathing tub. A tub I had no intention of pissing in. I had to climb out and find the necessary.

Where were my clothes? Did I still have them on? No, I was starkers in the tub. Tauriel would have teased me if I’d spent all night soaking in my clothes – no, I’d spent what little remained of the night under a bench, part of a spectacular conflagration with Dwarves in an inn. I’d made it home after dawn, I’d gotten my clothes off, I’d gotten in the tub... where had I dropped my clothes? Tauriel would tease me about not knowing. Best I find them...

I looked over one side of the tub. Not there. I looked over the other side of the tub. Not there, either – but the source of the rustling and mumbling was. The small, inquisitive face of my daughter looked up at me.

“Ta,” she burbled. She reached up to me happily. “Ta, Ta, Ta.”

 “Umph,” I mumbled, not much more coherently than her. I clambered out of the tub, shuffled to the necessary corner, grateful a long couple of moments later when I stopped feeling like I was afloat. I shuffled back, stooped for my bairn, and remembered to take off her diaper and wrapper before climbing back in the tub. Cradling her to my chest, I slumped against the wall of the tub, shut my eyes, and let every muscle go. It felt good to have more water outside of me than in. Míriel patted my chest, butting her head against me, so I rubbed her back hazily. I drifted off for just the barest moment –

I awoke with a yelp, slipping under the water, swallowing a mouthful, coming up sputtering, trying to hold Míriel away from me as well as above of the water.

“You! Little! Minx!” I accused her, who seemed none the worse for getting her head wet. “You bit me!”

She hadn’t just bitten my finger or my arm. She’d latched onto my nipple, thinking it worked the way Tauriel’s did, and clamped down. Her two new teeth had made their unwelcome presence known immediately after. On the heels of that came Tauriel’s laughter. She leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over her chest, snickering.

“Happy morn, _a’maelamin_ ,” she grinned.

“Bugger that,” I growled, stifling the epithets that came to mind as Míriel banged her hands against the water, giggling at the splashes she sent into my face. “The bairn is hungry.”

“So I noticed.”

I wiped water out of my eyes. It tasted distinctly of ale. And stew. Mixed with smoky pipeweed. My hair, then, was a mess. But then, so was the rest of me. I squinted against the light at Tauriel. “Come do something about it, then. I lack the means.”

“Not yet. I’m waiting for you to notice something.”

I glowered at her. “Where is _Maamr_?”

“She left to confer with Lord Elrond an hour after you got home.”

“Good. She isn’t here to see what happens if you decide not to feed the bairn.”

“I will, in good time,” she grinned. “Once you notice the very important thing that just happened.”

I continued to glower. “My daughter just bit me.”

“And she also...?”

I thought it through, thought it through... My eyes widened and I looked down at Míriel. “You talked... You talked! Miri, you talked, didn’t you?”

“Ta.” She blinked at me complacently. “Ta.”

Laughing, I gathered her up to press a wet kiss on her cheek. “Miri! You _are_ talking!” I looked at Tauriel. “Is she saying _Taad_ , or just making a noise?”

Tauriel knelt down and folded her arms along the edge of the tub. “Miri, is that your _Taad_? Who am I, then? Am I _Maamr_?”

“Ma,” Míriel said decisively.

Tauriel’s smile was as bright as mine. “So yes, she said _Taad_.”

“And _Maamr_.” I kissed Míriel again. “Now, say _Gabilmaamr_.”

Míriel gave me a quizzical look.

“Never mind. You said two words. That’s enough to celebrate for one day.” The look I turned on Tauriel was unabashedly silly. “Our bairn is talking, Tauriel!”

“You are glad now that I waited for you to notice, yes? I did not want you to miss something so important just because you were slow to wake.” Tauriel held her hands out for Míriel, looking almost as smug as the little one. “Now, I will feed the babe and watch you try to wash whatever that is out of your hair. You smell quite foul.”

I grinned, remembering how I’d gotten to that foul state. “With good reason. I shudder to think what the inn looks like this morning.”

Tauriel sat in the chair by the tub to feed Míriel and watch me slowly scrub myself back to sentience and better odor. The tub was so foul afterwards that I scrubbed it, too, and climbed out to wrap a towel around my waist while I combed my hair.

“Better?” Tauriel asked, as Míriel contentedly suckled.

Nodding, I sat on the edge of the tub and eyed Míriel. “I have a better appreciation of what you go through now that she has teeth.”

“When she bites, I put her down,” Tauriel shrugged. “Being hungry a few times is a good teacher. She does not bite now.”

“I hope getting a dunking taught her not to bite me,” I groused, looking mock sternly at my daughter. “That was no way to wake up.”

Tauriel smirked. “I do not think you woke up until she did. You did not hear me snickering from the door beforehand.”

I grumbled, but ruined the effect when I couldn’t hide a reluctant smile. “I hear you well enough now. Have a care, or I’ll make proper use of an empty house and give you a better reason to smile.”

Tauriel reached out to stroke my cheek. “You give me many reasons to smile, _a’maelamin_. Would you like Bilbo’s omelet for breakfast, or porridge?”

“Omelet.” I got up to kiss her. “I’ll just dress. Um... Tauriel, where did I put my clothes last night?”

“On the floor, one piece at a time, between front door and tub. Most of them are in the wash bucket, as they were in no better state than your hair.”

“Ah. I remember now,” I lied, ignoring Tauriel’s raised eyebrow. “Good. Thank you. I’ll fetch something clean, then. No duty today, bless the Valar.”

“I’ll let Míriel help you find some clothing, then, while I make your omelet.”

I took Míriel, but not without claiming a kiss from my more than tolerant wife first. Míriel sat on the bed to watch me find clean smalls, trews, and undertunic. I brought her into the kitchen with me as Tauriel slid my omelet onto a plate, and put a pair of leftover biscuits beside them. I got the crock of butter and the jam pot, and sat down with Míriel in my arms. She burbled and leaned towards my plate, grabbing for the biscuit. Out of long habit, I held her out of reach while I slathered butter and jam on the biscuit.

“Come, Míriel; let your _Taad_ eat in peace.” Tauriel took our bairn and sat down beside me.

“Ta,” Míriel replied, drawing my smile. I dipped my finger into the jam on my biscuit and held it out to her for her to gum. Of course, I forgot her teeth, but didn’t wince too badly when she bit down.

“What’s in the box, Kíli?” Tauriel asked.

“What box?” I asked, not thinking, then spotted the box I’d gotten from Níri last night. “Oh, that. It’s a present for Beorn. You can open it if you like.”

Tauriel took the top off the wooden box to reveal a set of chess pieces.

“All the Dwarves carving toys for Míriel gave me the idea. Beorn had a carved chess set in his house. He doesn’t seem the kind who’d want something fancy or regal. So I asked the Dwarves to do animal chess pieces.”

Tauriel picked up one of the rooks, which were bee skeps. The pawns were all bees, and the king was a bear. “They’re wonderful. I’m surprised they could do them so quickly.”

“It helped that they’re so big. Beorn is about the size of the Gundebad Orcs, not that there are any other points of comparison between them. Troli made most of the bees. He said bigger pieces are easier because they don’t have so many small parts to carve.”

Tauriel put the bee skep back carefully. “It’s a good gift, _a’maelamin_. Do you have another idea of what to take King Thranduil?”

I swallowed my bite of omelet. “Now there’s an Elf who’d prefer something regal. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything regal to give him, so I thought of something else. I think I’ll take him something for the _Glawar-galad_.”

Tauriel blinked in surprise. “He might like that. He raises rare flowers, did you know?”

“I didn’t. But I thought someone must have been enamored of such things, given the remnants I found in the _Glawar-galad_ , and I hoped he was that someone.”

Tauriel sighed. “I don’t know whether to hope that Lord Elrond wants me to go with you or not.”

“I thought of another reason why you should go, _amrâlimê_.”

“What?”

“King Thranduil’s court speaks Sindarin, you said, not Quenya. If Lord Elrond doesn’t speak Sindarin, he’ll need you to translate.”

Tauriel hummed noncommittally. “The king speaks Quenya as well as Sindarin and Nandori.”

I shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

She sighed again, looking down at Míriel. “I don’t think I should go. I don’t want to give him a reason to refuse to negotiate safe passage for your folk, either because of what I said to him, or because I have Míriel to care for. Despite what her father sees fit to give her to eat off his plate –” Míriel was savoring a bit of egg as her mother spoke, “– she still relies on me for most of her food.”

“Truth.” I finished my last bite of biscuit, and got up to rinse my things in the washbasin. “I still hope Lord Elrond asks for you to go. Even if you don’t go into Mirkwood when we get there, I’ll feel better having you beside me until then.”

Tauriel looked at me gratefully, but the truth was that I was grateful to her. I’d likely be the youngest one along on this journey, and the only Dwarf, and I had to negotiate the best agreement I could with two prickly lords of their respective realms. Tauriel could offer me solid counsel about how to deal with King Thranduil, given her long standing as his captain of the guard. What was more, I’d have someone along who I could trust, with whom I could be myself.

Maybe I could make that point to Lord Elrond, and hope that he’d take pity on me. For my first attempt as ambassador to have any chance of success, I needed every scrap of help I could find.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> Soon, we'll be off a-journeying, but first, we must face this very short, very sad chapter. We must bid farewell to our rambunctious Dwarves. Imladris will be unbearably quiet for a day or two...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Ez duzkak mi berch = The most love, my daughter (Khazuduhl)
> 
> Lissenen ar' maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva = Sweet water and light laughter till next we meet (Quenya)

_The lord’s daughter sold the necklace as quickly as she could. The screams of her mad father about the preciousness of the piece were too terrible to recall, and she wanted no reminder of it to sully her marriage._

_The Elf who bought the necklace was a great general, and he bought it for his lady wife who had endured too many campaigns alone while he was away fighting. But before he could return home to give it to her, another conflict began, and away he was again. His forces fared poorly, and the necklace was confiscated as the spoils of war. It vanished into the deep vaults of the victor._

 

* * *

 

I stood by Kíli as he hugged his mother. We were out on the Imladris plain with the rest of the Orc Spawn and all of the Dwarves. The last formal goodbyes had been said earlier this morning with Lord Elrond, Master Oteriel, and Lindir in attendance, but this was the hardest farewell, the one between friends. Tethrandil; Drennal and Fallin; Giriel and Rhiannel; and Kíli, Míriel, and I had ridden out of the city with the Dwarves to start them on their way west. The day was hot and sunny, but already the plain grasses were browning, and the heat would cool before the Dwarves reached Thorin’s Halls.

Here was Ferrisch, the canny general, and his smiling nephew, Dromi, the best splashers of water among the Dwarves; Níri, our pragmatic and gifted apothecary; Troli, our (relatively) shy maker of dolls and carver of chess pieces; Bidfer, drover and lover of all animals; Gridden, our excellent if surly cook, and his mates Frethedar and Oldisghad; Garrund, the archer; Florin, Arcken, Rivvish, and Orin, our games teammates; Flin and Flar, the two reformed teasers of Elvish aides; Fulrisch, Giriel’s favorite hunting partner; Vani, Drennal’s mentor in Dwarvish cooking and herbery; and Nathor, Grimka, and Rasgon, the best singers among the Dwarves, and Tethrandil’s favorite competitors at knife darts. As hard as I had found it to begin my association with them, given Kíli’s abduction, now I found it even harder to end it, for they were friends. I would miss their rough bluster and hearty laughs – and yes, their cursing.

My Orc Spawn comrades were no less sad to see them depart. Drennal was hugging Vani. Rhiannel and Fallin were gathered with Ferrisch and Dromi, and Giriel was singing one last song of farewell with Nathor. Tethrandil was passing Grimka a set of dart knives. Troli was hugging Míriel and trying not to cry. And Kíli, as I expected, was with Níri, embracing him with a wide grin.

Dís was dry-eyed, but only through long practice. Troli gave Míriel to her, brushed a quick kiss on my cheek, and hurried off before his tears fell. I called a farewell to him.

“I will miss all of you,” I whispered to Dís. “More than you can imagine.”

She kissed Míriel’s cheek soundly. “Not any more, lass. Maybe when we first met, I thought most Elves considered time spent with mortals as time wasted, or as fleeting as a dream. But not now.”

I sank to my knees to hug her hard. “Safe journey, Dís. And when you tire of counseling Dwarvish émigrés and yelling at Dain at strategy meetings, come to Imladris. Come before then, so your granddaughter remembers you. So you can meet the rest of your grandchildren, when they arrive.”

Dís brightened, and held me at arms’ length. “Is another on the way already, then?”

I shook my head, smiling. “Not yet. We must let Míriel wrap herself more tightly around her father first.”

“See that you stay just as tightly wound around him, Tauriel,” she replied. “You are his treasure.”

“As he is mine. Wish him well on his endeavors for your folk. I worry that it will be a long endeavor.”

Dís patted my shoulders. “It likely will be, from what you and Lord Elrond tell me about that woodland Elf king. But if you stand with Kíli, he’ll come through. I know you both will.”

She hugged me once more, and looked affectionately at me with her deep eyes. “Farewell, but not goodbye.Tauriel. _Ez duzkak, mi berch_.”

“ _Lissenen ar' maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva_ , Dís.”

Dís passed me Míriel, pressed a kiss to Míriel’s head, and turned away.

As she made her goodbyes to Kíli, I wasn’t surprised to feel the glimmer of tears in my eyes. Two months ago, I had been so angry with Dís for bungling Kíli’s protection. Today, I was glad to have had Dís with us in our home, to spend time with our daughter and us. If one day she came back to stay, I would welcome her.

At last all the goodbyes were said, and the last waves had been flung to the sky. The Dwarves mounted their rams, and trotted west over the dry grass. We heard one last strain of a farewell song, and then the Orc Spawn were alone on the plain. Drennal was openly crying. We stood looking after them until we couldn’t see even the dust cloud from the rams’ passage. Only then did we turn towards the city, and walked abreast towards home. Not even Giriel had the heart to start a song to lighten our way. She, as did the rest of us, chose to miss our friends in silence.

I smiled. A silent tribute to such boisterous friends was somehow fitting.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> Kili works very hard to learn to be an ambassador, and finds that a wizard is a surprisingly effective teacher. But Tauriel provides a suitably steamy reward for all of Kili's diligent study. Yes, it's an explicit chapter, but you know you want to read that, don't you?
> 
> Enjoy the ride, as it were. The new journey is upon us!

  _The scent of gold, the draw, even across the aether, of gold... how intoxicating they were. Let the Elves talk of their wine, the Dwarves of their ale, and the Men of their mulled spirits. None compared to the bouquet, the piquancy, or the allure of gold. The dragon breathed in the maddening scent, savored the aether’s pull, and flew down to the hall that sat above such bounty, such richness, such excess. It was a simple matter to lash the halls to ruins and flame the wretched Elves to ashes until they lay in bits as small as the milling ants they imitated with their rushing to and fro. They held no power to stop her from taking their trove –_

_When the single figure appeared before her, she snorted in laughter. Was he a fool, a simpleton? Did he think mere metal armor would protect him? She wouldn’t bother to flame this one. Far more satisfying to crunch his bones between her substantial teeth, and taste the fleeting bite of red Elvish blood on her tongue._

_She bit the armor, but there was no crunch of bone, no welcome taste of blood. The armor was empty. When she drew breath to snarl, a slight figure flitted to her side and thrust a pike between two scales on her breast. Her body jerked, pushing the pike deeper, until it pricked her heart. The slight figure was joined by two more, and they rammed the pike deeper, until it skewered her heart through. The blood she tasted was her own, leaving her with bitterness and gall as her last memory of Middle Earth._

_The skewered dragon fell writhing upon the scattered contents of the great vault, splattering blood nearly from wall to wall before she expired with a gust. When the throng of warriors joined the great heroes to remove the dragon’s head and carry it triumphantly out, one Elf remained. He had no interest in the hoard. An alchemist, he knew the value of dragon’s blood was much higher than gold. He had only a few moments before more returned to marvel at the treasure strewn about, and to shudder at sight of the dead beast. He pulled on gloves and stooped quickly, dipping five flasks in the pooling blood. Many a wizard or sorcerer would pay dearly for these._

_As he stoppered the flasks, a glitter drew his eye. A necklace lay to the side of the dragon’s body, half submerged in the blood – no trinket, that one. Even at this distance, the throb of its origin called to him. Another dragon had left its mark on it long ago, most likely in the raw gold. It was a delicate rendering of the dreamflower, the most precious flowers in that most perfect forest, Lothlórien, which lay far to the south of his home in the Greenwood. A pretty thing it would be, if ever the dragon’s curses could be purged from it. A dousing in dragon’s blood was easy enough to remedy, but it magnified the bane of the gold so much that the necklace would have to be carefully handled..._

_Still, the design was exquisite. Perhaps he would find a way to neutralize it. Given the right protections, he’d have the time to study it._

_The alchemist looked quickly through the spilled treasure. There, that would suit – a mithril box from some Dwarvish trove. He opened it and swept out the petrified vestiges of crumbs from some long-dead Dwarf lord’s breakfast pastries. He found a ceremonial dagger. He used the dagger to pick up the necklace and put it in the box, careful not to splash the dragon’s blood on the outside of the box. He closed the box, tossed away the dagger, and secreted the box inside his bag. So many folk were streaming into the vault that no one noticed him leave._

_* * *_

 

Imladris seemed empty and quiet after our friends left on their long journey back to Thorin’s Halls, especially given how hard I’d worked during the last few days before their departure. I’d sat in several sessions with Lord Elrond and _Maamr_ to learn the ebb and flow, the give and take, of treaty negotiation. Afterwards, _Maamr_ had spent hours in our sitting room with me, explaining what had happened in the meetings, how it had affected the agreements, what the agreements meant, and what parts she thought were best and which needed improvement. She listed what was left for me to do, and what terms she could and could not accept. She had a lot to say about negotiating with King Thranduil, and quizzed Tauriel endlessly about him. She talked about the stonework our folk could offer, and asked what protections we’d need against the dizzying forest. I was surprised how strongly she urged me to rely on Tauriel’s insights of that realm – not that I thought Tauriel was unknowledgeable, but I was pleased that _Maamr_ recognized and valued Tauriel’s expertise. My mother didn’t have much to say about Beorn, because she expected our émigrés to stay south of his lands. I concurred with her that Beorn was likely the simpler of the two rulers to approach, and was interested mostly in being left alone. She said so much that I thought my head would swell to three times its usual size to hold it all.

Such concentrated work made me triply glad I’d held firm about not taking the throne of Erebor. My mother was a stern taskmaster, but she worked me hard so I’d do well for our people. If this was how hard it was to be a good ambassador, I didn’t have the resources or the enthusiasm to be a king – but I knew that already.

After so much talking, it was a relief to patrol the plain, hold my mayhem class, weed my garden – how that reminded me of Bilbo, and simpler pleasures! – and putter about the kitchen. I had so much to think about that I often found myself reaching our front door after duty without any memory of walking up from the armory.

Today, though, I didn’t have such an oblivious trip. I’d just shrugged out of my armor, hoisted my leaf mail and bow over my shoulder, and started home when grey robes appeared before me. Stopping abruptly, I looked up in surprise to find Gandalf leaning on his staff.

“Gandalf!” I exclaimed, and gave him a glad bow. “I thought you’d left the city, given how little I’ve seen you since we came home. It’s good to see you!”

His smile was pleased. “Thank you, my boy. It is good to see you, too. You’ve been busy, so I hear.”

I exhaled. “I have. My mother gave me quite the new recruit’s grilling about how to be a good ambassador. Some moments, I think my head will explode like one of your firework displays. I’m just going home for luncheon. Would you like to come with me?”

“I would be most pleased to. Thank you.” He fell into step beside me. “The city seems to have survived the visitation of your mother and her kin.”

I nodded. “I miss them, to be honest. I’d forgotten what it was like to be the only Dwarf here. I’ve no complaints, of course, but to have one or two others about the place makes for a merry time.”

He smiled. “It certainly does. But I expect the city will see its share of more starting next spring.”

“I expect so, too.” I looked up at the wizard. “So... to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

He shot me a surprised look. “I merely happened to be wandering close to the armory. It’s a lovely summer day, well worth enjoying with a good walk.”

I snickered. “It is. But I’ve learned through acquaintance with a certain Grey Wizard that they never appear at random. I’m just a young Dwarf and not very eminent, but if there’s something I can help a wizard with besides offering him luncheon, I’m happy to do it.”

The wizard’s blue eyes warmed as if we shared a private joke. “Very good. Very good, indeed, Kíli. You’re learning.”

“I’m doing my best,” I grinned as we came to the front door. “Please, come in. Let’s see what’s in the larder. Tauriel was taking Míriel to the market this morning, and should be back soon, if there’s nothing in the house that suits you.”

I hung up my leaf mail, bow, and quiver, and put Gandalf’s hat on a peg. His staff went in the corner, and I led the way into the kitchen. “It’s cool in here, if you’d prefer that to the garden. Or if you’re feeling quite formal, we can eat in the dining room.”

“Oh, I’m quite content in a good kitchen,” Gandalf said comfortably. “That’s one of the things I like best about Bilbo. His kitchen is quite a good one, and he is quite comfortable in it, and I with him.”

“He helped us arrange this kitchen, you know,” I said, collecting plates and cutlery. “I think of him often when I’m puttering about. I wish he were still here. I think I miss him even more than I do the Dwarves.”

“He is a comfortable sort, and far wiser than he knows.”

“I always thought so. He talked sense to Uncle Thorin many times when no one else could. Chicken pie if you’re hungry, bread and cheese and pickles if you’re less so. And peach crumble.”

“Chicken pie, thank you.”

“Won’t take a moment to warm.” I lit the oven, put the pan inside to heat through, and got a glass and a mug. “Red wine?”

“Thank you.”

I put the full glass on the table and slid it to Gandalf before filling my mug with ale. I sat, took an appreciative swallow, and gave the wizard my regard. He didn’t play coy, but leaned over his elbows to give me a deep look.

“This journey you will soon embark upon. Tell me about it.”

I exhaled. “There’s so many things to tell, I hardly know where to start. And even more questions, if you want to know. I guess I’ll start with the journey itself. I thought that I should likely go along whatever path we want the Dwarf caravans to go, so that I know what to tell them when they reach here. For example, I don’t think they want to take our path through the goblins’ cesspool to get through the mountains.”

Gandalf laughed. “Likely not.”

“Are there any other ways through the mountains that would be easier for Dwarf families? Some of the paths we took with Uncle Thorin are much too narrow for carts, but doing without carts isn’t practical for families with elders and bairns. And just how often do those storm giants get the urge to toss half the mountainside at each other?”

He nodded. “Go on.”

“Once we get out of the mountains, we want the Dwarves to stay south of Beorn’s lands. I think if they keep to the path to the Old Ford, they’ll do that for the most part. It’s a straight path, and I’m counting on that to keep the Dwarves from straying where they shouldn’t. I’m going to tell them to stay on that straight path, anyway, because if they don’t, Beorn has the right to eat them.”

He laughed again. “Go on.”

I fished the chicken pie, now nicely warm and crisp, out of the oven. I put the spoon by the pan, and waved at Gandalf to help himself while I rummaged in the larder for cheese.

“Then there’s Mirkwood. Tauriel could get us through the wood safely, except the king banished her for calling him nasty names with good reason, but he’s the king and so telling the truth probably made him lose face, so it won’t be likely that he’ll let her back in the forest without retaliation. So if she doesn’t go, do we just stand at the edge of the forest and yell until someone shows up, or do we venture inside alone, and hope that having Elves in the party will keep us from being shot? And when we get to the king, he’s likely not going to be pleased to see me again, as I had some sharp words for him the last time I saw him, too.”

“Sticky problems,” Gandalf pronounced. “Excellent chicken pie, by the way.”

“Of course it is.” I took a big bite. “It’s Bilbo’s recipe.”

Gandalf hummed. “That’s the journey, then. What about the negotiating? Beorn won’t be easy.”

I swallowed. “I think he’ll be easier than King Thranduil. He wants to be left alone. He doesn’t want to be bothered. We don’t want to bother him. I think what I should do is tell him Dwarves are coming, and they’ll take pains to keep to the south, and they don’t want anything from him but passage. If someone acts up, he can scare them to death, and eat the stragglers.”

Gandalf rumbled with laughter. “There is something to be said for the directness of Dwarves.”

I chuckled with him. “The way is short enough that I don’t think many will camp in the middle of his lands. They can camp at the base of the mountains once they’re through, go straight across Beorn’s lands the next day, and camp at the edge of Mirkwood the following night.”

“Plausible.”

“I did get a present for him.” I got up and fetched the box of chess pieces and opened it on the table for Gandalf to look at. “It’s nothing exalted, but I hope he’ll look kindly on it. It’s mostly to offer thanks for sheltering Uncle Thorin’s company when he least expected to.”

“They’re well done, and I think he will look upon them kindly, precisely because they are not exalted. Beorn has no use for exalted things.” The wizard looked at me from under his bushy eyebrows. “That will be your strength with him, Kíli. Be yourself, which is not exalted.”

I burst out laughing. “No, it isn’t.”

“I do not make a joke,” he said seriously. “I repeat, Beorn has no use for exalted things, and that includes ambassadors. You will make the best impression on him if you remember that, and just be yourself.”

“Do you think that will work for King Thranduil, too?” I joked. “I don’t think I could ever be exalted enough to impress him, so I won’t try. The harder point is that the Dwarves do want something from him – passage through Mirkwood, and help to make that passage. If he doesn’t feel like giving either, we’ll have to go around. That means through Beorn’s lands, or three times as far south around the woods.”

“So what will you tell the king if he refuses to help?”

I exhaled. “That change is coming. The Dwarves, lots of them, are coming whether he wants them to or not. If he won’t deal with me, Dwarves will be everywhere before he knows it, into everything, making royal pains out of themselves. He’d like that even less than he’d like Dwarves sticking to the Forest Road.” I looked at Gandalf over my chicken pie. “Wouldn’t the king rather have a hand in managing the pain, rather than ignoring it and letting someone else decide how much pain to inflict?”

Gandalf smiled as he munched a piece of cheese. “Yes, I think you’ll do.”

“Do what?” I replied in exasperation. “Make a mess of it, or no? I miss being the next to youngest Dwarf in Uncle Thorin’s company.”

“As I recall, you grumbled about having to watch the ponies and look out for Bilbo.”

I grinned shamefacedly. “I did. Gandalf, I want to be a good ambassador, but I’ve never done anything like this before. I think I’ll manage with Beorn, but that Elven King... he’s not Lord Elrond. Speaking of whom, I don’t even know whom he’s sending on this journey with me. Except for himself and Lindir, I’ve no idea. When is he going to decide? And how long do we have before we leave? We should go before it gets cold, shouldn’t we?”

Gandalf chewed thoughtfully for several moments, so I attended to my luncheon. I’d probably done nothing but prove my ignorance about this whole ambassador business in the space of ten moments –

“What about the necklace?”

I jerked my gaze up to meet his. “You – you know about that?” At his arched eyebrow, I gulped. “Oh, clearly... you know about the necklace. What... exactly do you want to know about the necklace?”

“I want to see it, of course.”

I swallowed again. “Does it affect wizards as well as Elves?”

“I think not, but would like to be sure.”

“I’ll, um, just fetch it. No, better you come with me, in case Tauriel comes home in the middle. She doesn’t know where it is, and it upset her badly, so I don’t want her to worry about any more than she already does.”

“Of course.”

“It’s in our bedroom.”

I led the way there. “Just stand by the door, in case Tauriel comes home, so I can put it away.

“Of course.”

I dug under the mattress pad and pulled out the box. At Gandalf’s pointed expression, I shrugged. “She’s an Elf – she doesn’t sleep. When she takes the starlight, she’s in the garden, or in our sitting room. She doesn’t come here unless we... well, never mind. So the only time she’s ever here, I am, too, and I can watch out for her. She doesn’t want to see it again.”

“I understand, my boy. Ah, the box is mithril. And inside?”

I took it in hand. “If you’d come over here, I’ll stand by the door, in case it affects you, so I have room to run...”

“Of course.”

We switched positions, and I cast one last look at the front door. “Ready?”

The wizard nodded, so I opened the box. He gazed at it without reaction for a moment or two, then nodded. “Thank you.”

I shut the box quickly, shoved it back under the mattress pad, and we went back to the kitchen. “Anything?” I asked.

“Not a glimmer,” he replied, then shook his head. “That such a thing has caused so much devastation...”

“You know something of it, then?”

“It’s very old, of course, and has passed through many hands. I think Lord Elrond is right in thinking that King Thranduil has knowledge of what has made it what it is. Perhaps some have tried before to dispel its curse, and have failed. I would let Lord Elrond take the lead with the king about it.”

“Oh, good,” I said with relief as I brought out the peach crumble.

“That does not mean that he should take the lead on the treaty with either Beorn or the king,” Gandalf looked at me sharply. “Lord Elrond granted _you_ the position of ambassador, Kíli. That means that _you_ should take the lead on this journey. Decide which way to go, and when, and with whom. Ask Lord Elrond for help, of course, for he will support you. But he will not do it for you.”

I sat up straighter. “Oh. Um. I didn’t realize...”

“Of course not.” Gandalf’s voice was gentler. “You are having rather a trial by fire for your first negotiation. But I think you’ll do, if you keep your head, and don’t let either Beorn or King Thranduil rattle you. You’ve realized the most important thing about negotiations already.”

“I have? What is it?”

The wizard grinned as he spooned up his peach crumble. “ ‘What’s in this for me?’ You realize that Beorn wants to be left alone, and King Thranduil likes surety. As long as you remember those, you’ll do well.”

I dared to smile. “I’ll remember.”

“See that you do, especially when Beorn growls at you, and King Thranduil sneers at you,” Gandalf said with a pointed tone. “If you act like the worst of Dwarves when they act like the worst of their kind, we’ll get nowhere. Now, who do you think should go with you?”

I caught his unblinking gaze, so knew this wasn’t the time to say whatever reckless thing came into my head. I gave it a good, long thought. “Neither Beorn nor King Thranduil think much of me,” I said slowly. “I have no legitimacy. So I need folk who do have legitimacy to come with me, so that their legitimacy rubs off on me.”

“Good, good,” Gandalf said encouragingly.

“Lord Elrond’s going, so that’s a big dose of legitimacy, especially with the king. The next biggest source of legitimacy I know of is a wizard. Would you go with me?”

Gandalf’s smile was amused. “You’re a quick learner. I think I might. I have my own reasons to speak with both Beorn and King Thranduil. Who else?”

I thought some more. “I’d like some of the Orc Spawn to go. Drennal’s pregnant, so I won’t ask her or Fallin. But Rhiannel’s a good diplomat, even if Giriel’s a bit... wild. Tethrandil’s the oldest of us. He’s got a good level head, and he’s open to new things, which is why he’s an Orc Spawn, and it might be useful to show the Woodland Elves an example of how change isn’t always bad. And we probably need some experienced warriors because Lord Elrond is very important and deserves solid protection. There are still Orcs and such about.”

“And...?” Gandalf coaxed.

I sighed again. “I want Tauriel to be with me, Gandalf. I know she’s banished from the Woodland Realm, but she’s my wife, and she knows the king, and if we could somehow get him to overlook her being there even though he banished her...”

“That would mean Míriel would have to come with you, too,”

“I know. And I don’t know if that would work for me or not. Probably not. The king was going to kill Tauriel for bonding to a mortal – me. Seeing Míriel, the bairn of a mixed pair that he disdained from the start, might disgust him. And Tauriel was alone in that kingdom for five hundred years... so... eh, it’s not a good idea. Even I know it. Even though I want her to come, I won’t put her in jeopardy, and I won’t risk an agreement for the Dwarves.”

He nodded. “Bring her, all the same.”

I gaped at him. “What? You just let me talk myself into not bringing her, and now you want me to? Why?”

He took another spoonful of crumble, chewed it with enjoyment, and swallowed. “Because when King Thranduil acts badly, she will remind you that the Woodland Realm is more than just the king.”

“But how – if she’s banished – and with Míriel – how are we even going to get her in there?”

“I’ve no idea, my boy. I’m sure something will arise. Before that, however, you’ve got a lot to do. See Lindir this afternoon and ask for a meeting with Lord Elrond to tell him who will accompany you on this venture. Make a list of names, and put me on it. Look at maps, and plan a route. I will help you with passing the mountains. We need to go sooner rather than later, I imagine, to allow time for all the negotiating before the weather turns cold. Now, I must go. I thank you for such an excellent luncheon.”

I saw Gandalf to the door, and shut it rather dazedly. Tauriel found me at the kitchen table in some bemusement about half an hour later, when she brought Míriel and an armload of things in from the market. I jumped up to take Míriel from her.

“Hullo, Miri! Did you help _Maamr_ at the market today? What did you bring home with you?”

“More chicken, several kinds of salad, berries, a melon, and a ball of twine.” Tauriel regarded me. “You seemed lost in reverie, _a’maelamin_ ,” she said in some concern, as she put the things she’d bought on the table.

“I was. Gandalf came for luncheon.”

“Gandalf? I thought he’d left the city. How nice that he came to visit! I would have liked to share luncheon with him, too. What did he have to say?”

I exhaled as I rubbed Míriel’s back. “My mother doesn’t have any parallel when it comes to teaching the intricacies of politics. But at lunch, I learned that Gandalf doesn’t, either.”

Tauriel looked at me askance. “What does that mean?”

I told her.

 

* * *

 

Kíli didn’t repeat every word that Gandalf had said to him during their luncheon, and likely it would not have mattered if he had. The result of that luncheon was that three days later we began to pack for our journey. Lord Elrond and Lindir were going, as I expected. Surprisingly, Gandalf was, as well. Tethrandil, Rhiannel, and Giriel of the Orc Spawn were going, as were two dozen of Lord Elrond’s most seasoned warriors. The surprise was that Míriel and I were going, too. This seemed a dubious move, given my banishment from the Woodland Realm, and I questioned Kíli about the wisdom of this. My husband, however, was calm and resolute. This was no immature Dwarf who expected the high lord of Imladris to lead this expedition for him.

I was sorry that Drennal and Fallin would not make this journey with us, but Drennal was too far along in her pregnancy to risk, and Fallin wanted to remain with her. Instead, Tethrandil would have his chance to journey with us. He was by far the oldest of the Orc Spawn by several hundred years. At first meeting, he seemed quite reserved, the epitome of a cold, humorless, and aloof Elf. This mask covered a rare dry humor, and a ready spontaneity that was unusual for an Elf. It made him a devastating warrior, because he learned the strong and weak points of his opponents so quickly that he was virtually unbeatable. He was a frequent teacher in my maids’ classes, helping to instill that same adaptability in them. He and Rhiannel got on well, too, despite their different approaches; Rhiannel was the chess player, thoughtful and prone to plan, where Tethrandil was the improviser, the one who acted quickly and successfully when plans failed. Kíli wanted both strengths at his hand in his negotiations with the unpredictable Beorn and the temperamental King Thranduil.

Giriel’s inclusion I also questioned. She was most un-Elflike, which might not bode well in the Woodland Realm. But Kíli thought that to bring only those who seemed the most appropriate assumed that he knew what was appropriate, and he admitted he didn’t. Also, Giriel was Rhiannel’s _a’maelamin_ , and it would be difficult to separate them.

“I can’t surround myself only with serious folk, Tauriel,” Kíli rubbed my shoulder as we lay in bed together. “I’m going to have to behave myself so much of the time. If I don’t have a few folk with whom I can be myself, I’ll explode, and make a mess of everything.”

“Is that why I’m going?” I asked bluntly.

“No.”

“Then why, Kíli? You know I don’t want to be apart from you, but I don’t want to ruin your efforts with King Thranduil before they even begin.”

He rolled over, put his arm across my ribs, and nuzzled my ear. “Gandalf thinks you should go, _amrâlimê_. That’s good enough for me. No matter the bits about banishment and bairns and blasted necklaces.”

At mention of the necklace, I tensed. “I thought you didn’t want to take it with you.”

“I don’t. But Lord Elrond’s taking the lead with King Thranduil about the necklace, and he wants to take it, so I conceded. It doesn’t affect Gandalf, by the way.”

“It doesn’t?” He murmured a negation. “I don’t know why that surprises me. Wizards are not like Elves.”

His chuckle was soft in my ear. “More like Elves than like Dwarves.”

“So in three days, we’ll be ahorse once more.” He murmured agreement, his fingers in my hair. “Why are we waiting another three days?”

“Because I saw the tailor yesterday, and the fancy clothes I will wear to negotiate with the fancy King Thranduil won’t be ready until then.”

“Are we taking the Orc Spawn tent, then?” He murmured agreement again. “Then we’ll have extra space with just Tethrandil rather than Drennal and Fallin.” He murmured again. “I wonder if we –”

“ _Amrâlimê_.” Kíli turned my face towards him, and kissed me slowly. “We have three more days to work out all the details. After that, we’ll be nomads again, and a thousand more details will crop up that we’ll have to work out. Tonight, though, we’re at home, we’re alone, and there aren’t any political ramifications to what we do in our marriage bed. So until Míriel takes it into her head to want her _Maamr_ and _Taad_ , I’d like nothing better than to please my sweet wife, and hope she will grace me in return.”

I grimaced. “I am sorry, Kíli. You must be tired of so much statecraft.”

“I am. One moment I was a lad going on a big adventure with Uncle Thorin. Then I was a prisoner in an underground cavern, mooning over an Elf warrior maid too much my better to ever love a dark Dwarf. Then I was a battlefield refugee, and then I was an emigrating smith. Then I’m a dutiful son trying to keep a promise to my mother and now, all of a sudden, I’m an ambassador. I have no idea how these things work, but I suspect it reveals something profound about the Valar.”

“What would that be?”

Kíli slid atop me, kissing my throat, then stroking each nipple with his lips. “The Valar have a perverse sense of humor.”

I chuckled. “So it would seem.” I shut my eyes to better enjoy the tingle of pleasure that ran from my breasts down into the depths of my loins. “Mmm. Oh, yes. It has been too long.”

I felt him smile as he slipped down my body, kissing and stroking, until his tongue found its way into my deepest folds. “Has it? My apologies. Let me remedy that with all speed.”

“Would you remedy it slowly, instead? Yes. Like that. Oh, yes. Just like that.”

“Are you sure I’m seeing to you properly? Perhaps it would be better if I did this, too?”

His fingers insinuated inside me while his tongue kept up its compelling caresses, filling me so completely that I thought of nothing but soaring high over the moon. When I couldn’t contain the sensation, his arms wrapped around my thighs, holding me pressed tightly against his mouth until I was completely swept away. I arched against him, aware of the tiniest sensation – the light tickle of Kíli’s silky hair against my legs, his hands pressed firmly against my thighs, the tingle in my nipples and my lips, the soft handfuls of the soft cotton sheet clenched in my hands, then the sudden flush of heat that swept over my skin from head to toe. Oh, how that delicious tension crested and left the sweetest lassitude behind it...

“You are very good to me, _a’maelamin_ ,” I whispered, stroking Kíli’s soft hair as he laid his head on my stomach.

“It is always my greatest pleasure to show you how much I love you,” he whispered, easing higher atop me to press a kiss at the base of my throat. He slid inside me with the greatest delicacy, content to tease himself until I was ready to rise again. This time, his gasps mingled with mine. Even as I savored my own trip over the moon, I savored sight of him, head thrown back, hair in rampant disarray, sleek body taut with urgency and desire. Just to watch him was to rise with him, and when he shuddered in deep release, so did I.

“So, so sweet,” he murmured, kissing my throat again. “My most precious _amrâlimê_.”

I stroked his hair, tugging his marriage braid gently. “We must be sure to make the most of the three days we have left to us before our journey, _a’maelamin_. For we will not have the tent to ourselves on our journey.”

Kíli’s grin was my favorite crooked one – part rogue, part irrepressible scamp, and completely seductive. “Don’t be so sure, _amrâlimê_. If an ambassador has any privileges at all, I’ll see that kicking everyone out of the tent at least once a day is one of them.”

I rolled over, nestling my head on his shoulder and my arm across his broad chest. “It sounds like a most reasonable privilege to me.”

His arm tightened about my shoulders, and he chuckled. “Me, too.”

I lay beside him until he fell asleep. He was still smiling, which made me fall in love with him all over again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> We're off across the Misty Mountains! Lindir gets an unexpected invitation, and so does Kili. Our favorite Dwarven archer is about to find out that no matter how much planning he's done, the chance for diplomacy comes when he least expects it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the surprises.

_The study of centuries was not enough to solve the mystery of how to remove the dragon’s doubled curses from the golden necklace. Oh, the blood taint would be easy enough to remedy, so simple the alchemist never bothered to apply it. Yes, he washed the signs of blood away, but only to make the necklace more palatable to study; the effect of the blood remained undiminished. He did no more, in case the blood taint would aid any attempt to purify the gold. But no alchemist, apothecary, sorcerer, magician, necromancer, or master of dragon lore knew how to purge the dragon’s intent from the gold. It was the nature of purest gold to soak up intent, not to give it up._

_In time, the alchemist traveled from the Greenwood to Lothlórien to avail himself of the knowledge recorded there, but he was no more successful in finding answers to his questions then than he had anywhere else. Still, this time the failure didn’t seem so galling, for he found something to distract him. An Elf maid arrived from Imladris to the west to visit her father. She was graceful, with knee-length hair the color of lightest fruitwood, and eyes of palest moss green. She had a ready smile and a sharp wit, and a sense of humor about how poorly she played the harp. She was too enamored of riding her father’s spirited horses through the wood to practice, she said. So he took to riding in the same woods, and met her on rare occasion. They would walk their horses together for a few brief, fleeting moments, discussing his work and her love of horses. After several years of these chance meetings, he began to think they might come to some understanding._

_He asked her permission to court her one morning in the forest. She thanked him gracefully – then, to his shock, declined with gentle words. Why hadn’t she told him before now that she was already betrothed to another? His face burned. That afternoon, he packed his books and the necklace, and returned to the Greenwood._

_A century later, he heard of the impending ceremony between the Elf maid and her intended. The alchemist had succeeded in all manner of endeavors in his long life. All around him deferred to the wisdom he bestowed upon them even in his slightest musings. Only two things had not bowed to him during his long life – he had not cleansed the dreamflower necklace, and he had not acquired the Elf maid._

_He sent the necklace in its mithril box to the Elf maid as a wedding present. Thus one failure would rid him of the other._

_* * *_

 

At last, we were on our way! We’d finally stopped talking, discussing, theorizing, musing, and ruminating. The Orc Spawn had packed our tent, our teakettle and pots, and our blankets. We’d stowed our baggage atop packhorses, sharpened our blades, loaded our quivers, saddled our horses, and popped Míriel into her new basket that let her look over my shoulder. We waved goodbye to Fallin and Drennal, and then we were away!

Imladris receded in the distance as we climbed out of the deep valley on one of the eastward paths that would lead us into the Misty Mountains. I drew Trellennan to a halt and turned to gaze back upon the valley with its gleaming buildings of white stone that rose between green trees and cascading water like a dreamy mirage. Even after almost two years, it was hard to believe that this wondrous place was my home. If the beautiful vista was magical, so was the depth of joy I’d found there with Tauriel. I smiled; as excited as I was to be off on another adventure, I’d be just as excited to return.

“Missing Imladris so soon, Master Dwarf?” Lord Elrond asked as he rode by, his lips twitching in a smile.

“It’s worth missing, don’t you think?” I replied. “It’s the most blessed city I’ve ever seen.”

“I must agree with you.” The high lord cast a look back himself before riding by. “May she stay as blessed for another millennium.”

“And longer.” I turned Trellennan to follow Lord Elrond out of the valley, and out into the wide world.

The last time I had come this way, I’d been with Uncle Thorin’s company on our way to Erebor. We’d been afoot, and while we’d had Gandalf’s words to guide our path, being ahorse with the wizard to guide us in person were vast improvements. A couple of Lord Elrond’s warriors led the way up the western face of the mountains, but it was Gandalf’s reckoning that determined which path we took through the confusing maze of false tracks and dead-end valleys.

As before, the warmth of the valley receded quickly as we climbed up the slopes. Fortunately, we were well prepared and had warm coats to keep the chill away. I hoped it wouldn’t rain as it had during my first trip through the mountains; that’s when immense storm giants as tall as trees had pelted each other with house-sized boulders, nearly bringing our company to ruin. We’d retreated into a cave that had proved to be a goblin trap, and we’d taken an appalling detour under the mountain through their loathsome kingdom. Given how many goblins had died under our blades and in the battle before Erebor, I hoped they’d leave us alone on this trip.

We spent several days in the mountains, blessedly missing the goblins, but it was still a precarious business. Gandalf’s path was never more than a faint tracery on the steep stone, barely wide enough for our horses to traverse. At several points, the path was so narrow that we didn’t dare ride along it. We walked in single file, leading our horses, careful not to put a single step awry for fear of pitching ourselves down the mountainside. Each night, we camped on the path itself, for there were no wide stopping points, and we were too wily to venture far into any cave we found. We lit no fires, smoked no pipes, and made as little noise as possible. At night, we set guards at either end and in the middle of our company strung out across the mountainside.

It did rain one day and into the following night, a cold, driving rain that at times included snow and hail, but the storm giants remained asleep, and all we suffered was a cold wetting. The sun dawned warmly enough, but the mountainside was so treacherous with ice that it was nearly noon before we dared move on. It was hard to remember that far below and behind us, Imladris still baked under a summer sun, for we felt the full force of winter.

We all grew thoroughly sick of the mountains long before we got out of them. The Orc Spawn, in particular, had looked forward to being in our nomad tent again, and getting back to our comfortable traveling routine. But there was no place for more than two to gather together on the narrow path, much less pitch our tents. We had to stay close to our horses to keep them calm, and so we gathered in pairs for the night, each holding the reins of our horse as we slept or stood sentry. Míriel had an especially hard time of it, for she had to stay in her basket or in someone’s arms to keep her from rolling herself down the slope. For the first time, our bairn was fretful and fussy. Each time she grumbled or cried, I winced, hoping no evil creature heard her. It was bad enough that good folk had to listen to her, for it was not a delightful sound. I risked humming to her, which worked for a while. Unfortunately, the one thing that would ease her was the one thing we couldn’t risk – the freedom to stretch her legs. My legs grew sore from letting her bounce up and down on me.

The only advantage of my first traverse of the mountains was its shortness. Detouring through the goblins’ kingdom had saved several days, because the tunnels under the mountains ran straighter than the mountain passes. This crossing took much longer, and we still faced falling boulders, slippery ice, and treacherous footing. But, thank the Valar, we got to skip the goblins.

We saw the broad lands on the east side of the mountains some days before we reached them, but it was heartening to know that soon we would be off the slopes and onto a path that was wider than a horse. Gandalf wisely cautioned us not to grow careless as we descended the eastern side of the mountains, for the path was still treacherous. In fact, we had to retrace several hours of our way when a wide swath of the trail vanished before us in a landslide. Our lead scout heard the rumble of falling boulders, cried out a warning, and barely drew back out of range before a deluge of rocks fell on the path. The cloud of ice and debris that billowed up was blinding. The wind drove it down upon us, and we all froze in place, unable to see more than a few feet in front of us. The rumble stilled, but word whispered down the line to stay still, and indeed, two more falls of boulders fell down the mountain before the trembling earth stilled. When the air cleared, we saw that several hundred feet of the trail was gone, leaving nothing but sheer rock ahead of us. We retraced our steps to the place where we’d stopped the night before, and hunkered down to wait for dawn. I cuddled Míriel against me, not much happier than my miserable babe. This would be a hard, dangerous path for the emigrating Dwarves who’d come in the spring.

When the rising sun had cleared the ice, we continued to retrace our steps until Gandalf and our scouts found another path that bypassed the crumbled trail. It took two more days to pass our previous position, but from there, our progress improved. Another two days found us out of the mountains, cold and hungry, but no one was hurt, our horses were sound, and all of our baggage was intact.

We gladly continued forward, riding on at rapid speed until we were a good distance from the mountains and any marauding goblins. We were all relieved to find a place to camp for the night near a small stream descending from the mountains, where at last we could put Míriel down to crawl on the grass while we set up camp. It was so good to feel warm again! I shed coat and overtunic and gloves and helped Rhiannel and Giriel set up the tent. Tethrandil and Tauriel unpacked our packhorses, using the bundles to hem Míriel in while the camp was so astir, but she had a soft pad and her toys, and more space than her carrier, so she took it in good spirits.

When the tent was up and the floor was down, but before we set our baggage inside, I found Lord Elrond’s aide unsaddling his horse some distance away, near to Lord Elrond’s pavilion.

“ _Aaye_ , Lindir,” I heralded, as one of the Elves took Lindir’s horse and led it to the picket line. “We’ve got space in the Orc Spawn tent for another, if you’d like to share our hearth.”

He looked at me apprehensively, as if I played a prank, but my offer was sincere. “I thank you, but I need to stay near Lord Elrond, in case he needs anything.”

“Understood,” I nodded. “But the offer still holds. If you’d like company, we’d welcome you.”

“And what offer is this?” the lord himself walked up with saddle in hand.

“I said the Orc Spawn has room in our tent if Lindir would like it,” I explained.

“A most excellent idea, Lindir!” Lord Elrond grinned, setting his saddle by his baggage. “I think I can spare you for an eve or two.”

Lindir gulped, and didn’t see the wink the high lord gave me. So I rubbed my hands together briskly. “Good! You’ll do us a favor, really. We like to tell stories before we rest at night, and with all the books you’ve read, you likely know a lot we haven’t heard.”

Lindir brightened at that. “Stories?”

I nodded. “Yah, when the six of us went to the Blue Mountains, we were snowed in for a day or two. So we spent the time mending one thing or another, and playing with Míriel, and telling stories. That’s really when we became a clan, just like the nomads on the northwestern steppes. After that, each time we camped, we took to following the clans’ habits, and telling stories is one of them. We’d welcome some new ones.”

Lindir looked interested, but he took his duties for Lord Elrond very seriously, and looked at the high lord guiltily. Lord Elrond turned a benevolent eye on me. “I trust that you will look after our friend with all courtesy.”

I put my hand over my heart and bowed. “Of course, Lord Elrond. Our clan extends full courtesy to our guests, and no one will pull a prank unless it’s Lindir himself.” I cast the aide a wary look. “You aren’t the sort who likes practical jokes, are you? Because I can’t be responsible for what Giriel might do if you try to slip a mouse in her blankets or such rot. Although I suspect she’d try to make a pet of it, more than anything else.”

Lindir looked affronted. “I am not in the habit of putting mice in someone’s blankets.”

“See that you don’t.” I returned Lord Elrond’s wink. “So if you’d like to join us, I’ll help you bring your baggage and such.”

“I shall manage without you for a while, Lindir,” Lord Elrond assured his aide. “A ready audience for your stories is not to be missed. Go and enjoy yourself.”

With a gulp, Lindir nodded, and indicated the small collection of baggage by his saddle. I took up most of it, waited for him to get the rest in hand, and led the way to our tent. Tauriel and Giriel saw me coming, and waved a greeting.

“ _Aaye_!” I called. “I’ve brought Lindir to stay with us. He’s offered to share some of the stories he knows around the hearth.”

“New stories?” Giriel grinned. “That’s good! Welcome, Lindir!”

“Welcome,” Tauriel echoed, smiling at me. She divined my offer of companionship to the shy aide without difficulty, and I was glad that she approved. “You’re just in time. We’ve got the hearth almost finished, and the baggage goes next. Ah, here are Rhiannel and Tethrandil with the last of the rocks for the hearth.”

I put Lindir’s baggage down, and took the biggest rocks from Tethrandil and into the tent to place them. Giriel had already piled some deadfall by the tent for fuel, and I’d chop it up later when we unpacked the axe. Now we were ready to pile in our baggage. We sorted out which spots we each wanted, and along the way, we got Tethrandil and Lindir sorted out about tent etiquette and public and private space and so on. We would eat with the company tonight, but Tauriel put on the teakettle, and Giriel and Rhiannel started a potato stew just for atmosphere, so we had our home quickly established. Tauriel took Míriel in hand, so the rest of us went out to help the rest of the company get settled.

A few scouts had already come back with more deadfall for our central cook fire, and told me about a huge dead tree with many well-seasoned branches just waiting for an axe to free them. I fetched my wood axe from our baggage, and headed off with two of the scouts to show me the way. It was beside a clutch of jagged rocks that had thrust up from the ground long ago. In the more recent past, lightning had blasted the tree, and it lay prone over the rock protrusions, just at the right height for my axe. As the day had grown much warmer, I pulled my shirt off, tied my hair back with a bit of string, and set to with my axe.

It was so good to stretch my muscles as I wielded my axe on the dry wood! I got into a rhythm, chopping the pieces into lengths suitable for the fire, until I had a good pile of it. Given that we were in sight of the rest of the company, I sent the Elves back with the wood so the cook could get started on supper while I kept chopping.

I had an instant’s warning that I wasn’t alone – I heard the feather touch of a foot upon the grass. I straightened, turned – a very tall and familiar figure approached. Beorn. He looked no different from when I last saw him, clad in rough fiber tunic and pants, unusual boots woven from tough hemp, with his distinctive belt with a carved face of a giant on one end and that of a bear on the other. He was unarmed, as if that mattered. He was a giant, able to transform himself into the largest and most savage of bears, and if he didn’t like my presence, he was well able to remove me in an instant. For the moment, his face was calm, if glowering, and he stood easily, without tension. I stood with the axe handle loosely in my hand and the head on the ground, and waited to see what he’d do.

“Who did that to you?” he asked without preamble as he walked forward out of the trees. His deep eyes met mine with unblinking steadiness. He wasn’t angry, nor was he glad to see me, and he waited for my answer with both patience and sternness. When he pointed to his back, I understood that he’d seen the scars that were still livid across mine.

“Orcs,” I replied, and turned back to give the tree limb one more good whack. The limb came off the trunk with a solid thunk. I swung once more to put the axe into the trunk, off the ground, before I turned back to the skin changer. “Two of them. But neither one of them will do it to anyone else.”

Beorn stared at me, considering, weighing, judging. Then as suddenly as lightning strikes, he grinned widely, an expression I’d never seen on his resolute face before. “Good. That is good.”

“Very good.” I put my hand over my heart and bowed. “I am Kíli. I am glad to see you again, Beorn.”

“You are one of the Dwarves who came with Thorin Oakenshield,” Beorn said in his deliberate way.

“Yes, sir. I thank you for sheltering us, and for loaning us your wonderful ponies. They saved us from the Orcs.”

“But not those two,” he pointed to my back.

“Not those two. It’s a very long story, if you’d like to hear it. Did you know that the dragon that sat on Erebor is dead?”

His bushy eyebrows, so long and shaggy that they tangled in the hair at his temples, twitched in satisfaction, and he nodded. “I know that Smaug is dead.”

 “Then you likely know that Bard, one of the men of Laketown, brought the dragon down when he flew down on the city, flaming and burning. The dragon’s body fell into the lake, and I hear you can hardly see his bones now, they’re so overgrown with water plants. The city’s being rebuilt, too, and so is Dale, and so is Erebor itself. But before that happened, there was a big battle. The Elves, Men, and Dwarves allied to fight off the Orcs and the Goblins.”

Beorn nodded again. “I was there. I fought with the Elves, Men, and Dwarves. I saw the Orcs and Goblins defeated.”

I blinked in surprise. “You were there? I was, too, but I didn’t see you. I was near Ravenhill...”

As I told my version of the fight for Erebor, and the deaths of my brother and uncle, Beorn listened with his deep eyes alight with interest. He nodded along the way, not complaining that I took my time, and diverged as I needed to answer whatever question he asked. When I was done, he pointed to my back again.

“You haven’t spoken about those two Orcs,” he reminded me.

I shook my head. “I haven’t. It wouldn’t have made sense without me telling you about Erebor first. Would you like to share some food while I tell it? That lot behind me is a bunch of Elves and a wizard, and they’d welcome you to join us. If you’d rather not, I’ll fetch something out here for us.”

“Orcs first, then Elves,” he said.

“Fair enough. Let me fetch something for us, then.” I turned around, and as I expected, Tauriel and Gandalf and Lord Elrond stood watching out of earshot. I beckoned to Tauriel, and she came forward without fear. I went to her.

“I’d like that big pot of potato soup Rhiannel started, and a large flask of water. Make sure there’s not a scrap of meat or cheese in anything. Bring the biggest cook spoon and bowl that we’ve got for Beorn. And bring the box I brought for him.”

“I’ll bring them. You’ll be well?”

“I’ll be fine. He’s interested in stories. Get Gandalf to tell you about the first time we met him after you bring the food. And I thank you for fetching everything.”

“It is my privilege to help Imladris’s ambassador for all things Dwarvish,” she smiled, and headed back to camp. I stayed where I was until she came back. Giriel was with her, because they’d brought bowls, spoons, a bowl of fruit, and bread as well as the soup and the box, and it was more than one person could carry. I took the things from Giriel with whispered thanks. She was so busy looking at Beorn with her typical avid interest that she barely heard me. I had to nudge her surreptitiously to get her to return the way she came.

“I’ll come back for your lot,” I said to Tauriel, but my Elf maid kept the things in her hands.

“I think I should take this at least part of the way,” she replied.

“I don’t think you’d better. He’s unpredictable,” I breathed.

“He’s also beckoning to us,” she breathed back, nodding at Beorn. In truth, he was, so I glanced at Tauriel.

“Then he’s interested. Just be calm, and don’t do anything sudden.”

“Of course.”

Tauriel and I carried our things back to Beorn. “Beorn, this is my wife, Tauriel. Tauriel, this is Beorn. I’ve been telling him about what happened at Erebor. He was there, too.”

Tauriel bowed over her armload of dishes. “I am pleased to meet you, Beorn, and glad that you escaped the battle in good health.”

Beorn nodded back at her, considering. “You are a daughter of the Eldar, not a Dwarf.”

“I am.”

“And you are his wife?”

Tauriel set down her dishes by the soup pot and smiled gracefully. “That is my dearest privilege.” She bowed again, and went to retreat. “I hope you will join us later, Beorn.”

“No,” Beorn said. “Stay. I would like to hear the tale of how an Elf and a Dwarf married, too.”

I grinned as I set the box of chess pieces aside, and hunkered down by the soup pot. “It’s all tied up with the Orcs, and one of the best parts, so I’m glad to tell it. Let’s dish out the soup first, and then I’ll get on with the tale. Tauriel, here’s yours...”

I spooned the small bowl full of soup and handed it to Tauriel. I filled the big cook bowl full and handed it to Beorn with the serving spoon. I set the fruit on top of the box and used that bowl for my soup. “There’s only potatoes and herbs in the pot, as I know you hold with eating no meat. And the pot just came off the fire, so the soup’s hot. Have a care you don’t burn your tongue on it.”

Beorn folded himself down on the ground with his bowl as Tauriel poured water into the glasses. She set the carafe down beside Beorn, and we all had a few spoonsful of soup before I took up the tale of what happened after Erebor. I backtracked to tell Beorn about Tauriel and me in the Woodland Realm and our subsequent marriage, and then skipped ahead again to talk about our journey to the Blue Mountains, and how the Orcs had trailed us. I told Beorn about my thirty-six days in the hands of the Orcs without much fanfare, as the shackle on Beorn’s left hand told me he already knew about the cruelty of Orcs to their captives. Our soup was finished long before my tale was, so Tauriel went back to camp with a load of the dishes while I continued on.

“That is a good tale,” Beorn nodded, when I was at last done. “Good that there are fewer Orcs and Goblins to plague the world.”

“Many fewer, at least for a while.” I took up the box. “I brought you a gift to thank you for sheltering me and Thorin’s folk. I hope you will accept it.”

I handed him the box without ceremony, and he opened it just as casually. He regarded the chess pieces in his impassive way, finally taking up one of the lighter-hued pawns that Troli had carved like a bee. “They are well made. I thank you for them. Did you make them?”

I shook my head. “My skill is with metal. When I knew that I would see you again, I asked several of the Dwarves who helped free me from the Orcs to carve these for you. I asked them to do the bees especially, because your enormous bees are one of my favorite memories of your land.”

Beorn held up one of the bee skep rooks, turning it to and fro to admire the carving, but his eyes came to regard me. “Now you hint of another story – something that brings you to my lands again.”

I nodded. “The very tale. It’s a much shorter one than the others. When Smaug first claimed Erebor, my folk were driven out to wander. Many of them settled far to the west in the Blue Mountains, north of the Elves’ Grey Havens, the city they call Mithlond. Now that Erebor is a Dwarvish realm again and the Orcs are diminished, many of the Dwarves seek to return to their homes in Erebor. They will start their emigration in the coming spring. My people understand that they must traverse lands that are not theirs, and our leaders want to minimize the trouble that such a migration could cause. So I came from Imladris to find you, to tell you that our folk are coming, so that you will not be surprised when you see them. Our leaders will require all of the émigrés to sign a pledge to stay south of your lands, on the path you and I agree to. Now, them being Dwarves, you and I both know that some of them will venture elsewhere out of sheer stubbornness. So I told them that I intended to tell you that if they did, then you could chase them all you wanted, and eat the stragglers.”

I made this outrageous statement in a matter-of-fact tone, without a smile. Beorn frowned at the unexpected ending of my recitation, thought about it, and then flashed that startlingly wide grin again.

“That is another good tale. Perhaps I will chase a few. But as I do not eat meat, they are safe from my teeth, if not my claws if they misbehave.”

“Just as well,” I shrugged. “Dwarves taste awful, or so I’m told. Except to Trolls, who apparently find Dwarves quite delicious.”

Beorn hummed. “Trolls eat anything, so I would not make much of their recommendation.”

“I’ve helped to forge a pact between the Dwarves and the Elves of Imladris to urge most of the Dwarves to come through that city before they brave the Misty Mountains. I’ll be the one telling them what they can and can’t do once they cross the mountains, and I expect I’ll send guides with them to help them along. I’ll tell them to camp here once they get out of the mountains, if where we are now is south of your lands?”

“For the most part,” Beorn nodded. “The Old Forest Road once crossed my lands, but when the Orcs preyed on my people, we diminished, and now no longer cross the road. We hold to the north.”

“Then I’ll tell the Dwarves to keep to the Old Forest Road and south, cross the Anduin River at the Old Ford, then head straight for Mirkwood. Would they be able to camp on the outskirts of the forest before they venture into the woods, if they stay to the south?”

“It is seventy miles from the Misty Mountains to the edge of Mirkwood, and your folk cannot cross that distance in a single day. It will take at least three days, and they will need to make camps along the way. They should set a watch, for Goblins sometimes come that way.”

“I thank you for the warning. So if the Dwarves must make camp, can they do so if they stay south of the road?”

Beorn nodded. “That is acceptable.”

“Thank you. That should keep most of them away from your home. What else do you require?”

“There will be no hunting on my lands,” Beorn said.

“Done. What about fish in the Anduin?”

“They must stay south of the road,” he said grudgingly, not because he thought less of fish, but because south of the road was no longer his domain. “And tell them to keep to the dead wood for their fires. Green wood does not burn, and I will not have them killing the trees.”

“Also done. If you like, we could set up a cairn or cache where the guides can put messages for you, or you can put messages for them. That way, if any of the folk crossing your lands causes harm, you can send word to me, and I will address it.”

He considered that. “I thank you for that. But I tell you this, Kíli. I will not make a prison out of my house and lands for those who do not follow our agreement. I will deal with them as I see fit.”

“Exactly as I expected,” I agreed, “and exactly as I’ll tell them. I’m not inclined to run out of Imladris, across the mountains, and all the way out here, just to sort out fools who won’t follow directions and ought to know better, either.”

Beorn’s smile was amused. “If more Dwarves were like you, I might like them better.”

Laughing, I put my hand on my heart to bow. “I take that as the highest compliment, sir. Now, I’ll write down everything we agreed to, so we both have a record of it. I can do that right now, if you’d like to talk to Lord Elrond and Gandalf and the Elves for a bit and have a bit more to eat than that small bowl of soup.”

“I will see the Elves, and the wizard, and see you again in the morning. You can give me your paper then. I read the Common Tongue, but not the Elvish or Dwarvish.”

 “Common Tongue it is,” I nodded. “So, on to the Elves. They’re a lot quieter than Dwarves, which I hope won’t put you out too badly.”

Beorn grinned as he got to his feet. I collected the bowls and carafe, freed my axe from the tree, and led the way towards the Elves.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. The final chapter of the necklace's storied past is at hand. Back in the here and now, Kili goes on an emotional roller coaster, Lindir gets to shine, and the hearth in the heart of the Orc Spawn tent is back in business. Tea and stories all around!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the musings :-).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> kurvanog nar thos Gundebad Orcs = fucking eunuch Gundebad Orcs (rather a contradiction in terms, but Dwarvish insults are often like that)

_The mithril box arrived with a clutch of other betrothal gifts to the chambers belonging to Alathiel’s father, and so was not opened right away. The unfortunate Elf who opened the box was Alathiel’s young sister, barely fifty years old, who succumbed to the lure of the gold without warning. She had the necklace in her hand without thought, then around her neck. She ran for the door to hide, but her father came in too quickly for her to escape him. He was halfway through a compliment on her new jewelry when she screamed and flew at him, throwing anything under her hand at him. The stir brought servants and family, and they, too, lusted for the gold. The necklace was torn from the maid’s neck in the scuffle. Blades were drawn. By the time Alathiel and her mother ran to see the cause of the screams, many already lay in the pooling blood, and all still standing hacked at each other without mercy._

_At the first pull of the gold, Alathiel realized the nature of the horror that had befallen her family, and who had sent it. The alchemist had spoken several times of his study of dragon’s gold, and the devastation it wreaked. At other times, he had spoken of the near perfection of mithril, that most precious of metals, impervious to all sorcery. With swift words, Alathiel and her mother made their plan. When the flailing horde kicked the mithril box near Alathiel, she snatched it up. When the necklace went skittering across the floor, her mother snatched it up. She drew back her hand to throw the necklace to her daughter, who would imprison it in the mithril box – but her brother’s blade fell first. As she fell, mortally stabbed, he trampled her body to lunge for the necklace. With few seconds of sanity remaining to her, Alathiel tore the necklace from her mother’s dead hand, and slammed it into the box._

_Six of her family, including her father, her mother, and her youngest sister, as well as her betrothed, lay dead. The rest collapsed at the horror of what they had done._

_When Alathiel returned to Imladris, she brought the cursed necklace in its protective mithril box with her. How could she leave it in Lothlórien, after so much tragedy? She and her mother had resisted the pull of the necklace far longer than the rest, who had not resisted at all. Better to take the poison with her and hide it where it would not endanger anyone again._

_Alathiel dared not mention the necklace to anyone, so she searched the libraries and craft halls alone. She looked for anything that would tell her how to render the necklace harmless, but to no avail. So she turned the central domed chamber of her house into a memory of her beloved Lothlórien, a place she would not see again. She commissioned a carver to design panels of pale ash wood that mimicked mallorn trees to line the chamber, and an artist to paint murals of birds and flowers on the stone between them. She secreted the mithril box in the stone behind the paneling, never to be seen until it was time for her to sail. Perhaps in the safety of the Undying Lands, she would find a way to remove the curse from the necklace, or see it destroyed. To remind her of the danger, she had the muralist who decorated the stone between the ash panels include a thrush above the niche._

_She mourned her dead by riding through the Imladris forests outside the city. They looked nothing like the trees of Lothlórien, but the clean air, the smell of leaves, and the green of the moss and leaves in spring eased her loss._

_When the deer leaped out of the underbrush in front of her horse, her last thought before she was thrown to the ground was of the cursed necklace behind the pale ash paneling, waiting to snare its next victim._

_* * *_

 

I was so proud of Kíli for how well he coped with Beorn’s unexpected appearance. He had borne so many weeks and days struggling to make sense of all the information his mother had heaped upon him. There had been all of Lindir’s cherished paper and parchment for him to sort through. Lord Elrond had kindly explained a word here and there about the commerce and history of our adopted city of Imladris, which he had tried to absorb. Then Gandalf had poked and prodded him into taking charge of this journey. He had been so harried, so stuffed full of treaties and tactics, but very little of it had been anything but dry book learning. Everyone had meant well, but Kíli was at heart a practical soul. How was he supposed to actually sit down with Beorn, and the much more problematic King Thranduil, to work out such weighty matters? None of his life thus far seemed useful as a guide to his new role. It was a wonder he didn’t sneak Trellennan out of the stable and ride off in exasperation, never to return. He was, after all, a very young Dwarf, and known to be reckless.

Perhaps it was his recklessness that inspired him to stand his ground when Beorn appeared without warning. I saw him first, and no wonder. I considered Kíli to be quite handsome, and when I had only to hold our daughter while everyone else bustled about camp to pitch tents and start fires and picket horses, of course I turned to watch my husband strip off his shirt to chop wood. How easily he swung his axe, expertly placing his blows with force and economy. How delighted I was to admire his sleek body, and revel in the play of his muscles under his skin. His marriage rings shone in his ears, reminding me of the dashing corsair he’d been on our wedding day, and I decided that he was no less compelling now –

The shadows by the trees shifted, and there was Beorn. My mouth went dry, and my hands tightened on Míriel, but Kíli stood quietly, watching the giant approach. I tore my eyes off the pair long enough to find Giriel. I beckoned to her quietly.

“Get Gandalf,” I urged the maid, when she was at my side. I nodded towards Kíli, and her eyes grew round to see the giant come out of the trees. “That is Beorn. Get Gandalf and Lord Elrond. Tell everyone else to be quiet.”

“Oh, Valar!” she hissed, and hastened off. In seconds, both of those eminent people were beside me. I didn’t have to say anything to either of them, for Giriel had already alerted them. Both stood in silence, but all three of us were tense as we watched Kíli bow to the giant. Only Míriel acted as if nothing were untoward, patting my shoulder, cooing to the faces around us. Around us, the voices of the Elves lowered, then stilled as word spread of our visitor. The Orc Spawn, as well as Lindir, came to stand at my back.

“What is he doing?” Giriel hissed. “It looks like they speak about inconsequentials.”

Kíli’s arms went wide as he talked. From time to time, Beorn nodded, or asked a question, and Kíli went on. My husband seemed very matter-of-fact and calm.

“He’s telling Beorn a story,” Gandalf said quietly, leaning on his staff with a slight smile. “Good. Very good.”

“A story?” Lord Elrond cast a skeptical eye towards the wizard.

“Indeed,” Gandalf nodded. “Kíli remembered our first meeting with Beorn. The skin changer is unpredictable, but curious. He is quite happy living among his friends the animals and the birds, and has little need of companionship with Men, Elves, Dwarves, or Wizards. He hates Orcs and Goblins, with good reason, for they have decimated his folk. Yet he hosted all of Thorin Oakenshield’s company peacefully because I told him a story. He wanted to hear the end of it, so I introduced our company in pairs during the telling, which held off his wrath. By the time I finished, thirteen Dwarves, a Hobbit, and a Wizard were reasonably safe from his anger.”

Turning around, Kíli beckoned to me. I thrust Míriel into Lindir’s arms, for he was closest to me, and went forward, meeting Kíli half way between our camp and Beorn. Banked excitement danced in his eyes as he told me what he needed, and Giriel helped me collect it in short order. The maid was no more afraid than Kíli; in fact, she was eager to come with me for a closer look. Kíli introduced me, and very quickly I saw the truth in Gandalf’s surmise about storytelling. Beorn took soup with us as Kíli and I told our tale, and if I had not already heard about the formidable nature of skin changers, I would have thought Beorn was as stolid as the nearby mountains.

I reminded myself of the terrifying landslide we’d endured in the mountains that had swept several hundred feet of path and mountainside away in an instant. Mountains only _looked_ stolid and unchanging, and Beorn was no less primeval – or dangerous.

Kíli’s eyes told me when I should leave him to talk further with Beorn, so I bid my respectful farewell. When Beorn’s deep eyes considered me with unhurried intent, I felt like I was in the presence of the land itself. I bowed deeply, took up the dishes, and went back to camp.

“Now what is he doing?” Giriel hissed, despite the nearness of Lord Elrond and Gandalf. No one in camp made any pretense of working, but stood watching the pair talking by the dead tree. Nervous laughter rippled quietly through the Elves at Giriel’s question, so I took Míriel back from Lindir – distractedly noticing that the tall aide didn’t look as uncomfortable holding her as I’d expected – and faced the company.

“Gandalf guessed correctly. Kíli told Beorn about what happened after Erebor, and how he and I married. I expect that now he will speak about how his folk will move west to return to Erebor.”

Gandalf considered the pair. “I expect Kíli will be polite and offer the respite of a larger supper to Beorn, so it would be wise to prepare. He is a great friend of all living things, so he does not eat anything that includes meat, cheese, or any other product that requires an animal’s death. Milk and butter are acceptable.”

“See to that,” Lord Elrond said, sweeping all of us with his gaze. “All of you, have a care to remain respectful.”

“Yes, my lord,” whispered around the group, and most of the Elves dispersed to return to their camp duties, if not the Orc Spawn or Lindir. I remained with Gandalf and Lord Elrond to watch over Kíli and Beorn, and before long the pair approached.

Kíli gave me a quick wink, but kept himself admirably in hand to bow to Lord Elrond and Gandalf. “Beorn, may I introduce Lord Elrond of the Elvish city of Imladris to the west of the Misty Mountains? Lord Elrond, this is Beorn of the Beornings, the holders of this land. He would like to speak with you.”

Lord Elrond bowed. “Beorn, it is my honor to meet you.”

Beorn nodded. “I know of your city, and of your people. I am glad to greet one of the Eldar.”

“And this is Gandalf the Grey, a great wizard. I expect you remember him from Thorin Oakenshield’s company.”

“I do,” Beorn gave Gandalf a nod. “I told you a story when we last met, about tombs in the mountains. I hope you have brought a happy end to that story, for I would like to hear it.”

Gandalf bowed. “I will tell you all I know, though I fear that the tale has not ended. The parts I have learned are dark.”

“A cautionary tale, then,” Beorn surmised. “Not all tales are bright ones.”

“No,” Gandalf agreed.

“You are welcome to share our supper,” Lord Elrond invited the skin changer, “and walk among our folk. Many are eager to meet you.”

“I thank you,” Beorn replied. “It has been a long time since I last talked with the Eldar. Few from your city come east, and the Woodland Elves do not come west.”

“The Orcs,” Lord Elrond exhaled, and Beorn agreed with a grunt. “I had hoped the battle for Erebor would reduce the Orcs’ numbers and their ability to prey on those around them for some time.”

“Their attacks are fewer,” Beorn agreed with satisfaction. “But not gone. Set a watch on your camp tonight, for they like night hunting best.”

Lord Elrond held his hand out towards the camp. “Come, then, and we will talk while supper is prepared.”

Beorn went with the Elf Lord and the wizard, but not before he nodded to Kíli. Kíli bowed in return. When the trio was out of earshot, the Orc Spawn and Lindir gathered around my husband. Several other Elves slipped near, too.

“What did he say?” Giriel naturally, pressed him. “He merely stepped out from under the trees and talked to you, just like that?”

Kíli’s grin was rueful, and took in all of us eager for details. “I’m sorry, Lindir. It looks as if I must tell the first tale of the night.”

“I’m glad to go second,” was Lindir’s reply. “I don’t think any tale I can think of will be as interesting as yours, besides.”

“Then let’s get on with the telling!” Giriel said in exasperation. She looked at everyone. “Come on, as many as can fit in the tent!”

“It’s not that much of a tale,” Kíli protested. “He asked who put the scars on my back. I told him it was Orcs, but the two that did it wouldn’t do it to anyone else. He liked that, and wanted to hear the tale, so I told him. Then he asked about Tauriel being my wife, so we told him about that. Then I gave him the chess pieces, and that let me tell him about the Dwarves, and from there we worked out an agreement.”

“There’s got to be more to it than that,” Giriel said in exasperation.

“There isn’t,” Kíli protested. “Eh, perhaps a little more. But I have to do something first, before anything else.”

“What?” Tethrandil asked, a second before everyone else did.

 “I have to write everything down that we agreed to, don’t I? Though I’m not exactly sure how to do that.” Kíli looked at Lindir. “Would you help me, Lindir? It’s my first agreement, and I’d like to make a good job of it.”

“Of course,” Lindir’s smile was wide. “I am glad to help. We can do it now, while there is still light. You tell me the details, and I shall write it out.”

“That’s good. Your writing is surely a lot clearer than mine. Tauriel, I’ll take Míriel, if you want.”

“I’ll get our things settled, then,” I agreed, handing our daughter to him, as the Elves around us drifted away. When most of them were gone, I brushed a kiss on his ear. “Well done, _a’maelamin_. See, you are a good ambassador, after all.”

Kíli blushed, but covered his appreciation of my compliment with a snort. “I want to be clear about one thing.”

“What is the one thing, Kíli?”

He snorted again. “Those two _kurvanog nar thos_ Gundebad Orcs might have given me the perfect means to start a conversation with a skin changer, but they don’t get any of the credit for my first agreement.”

“Of course not, Kíli. That was entirely your doing.”

He grinned up at me, hefted Míriel as she gnawed on her doll, and kissed my hand before we walked with Lindir to our tent.

 

* * *

 

Before an hour had passed, I was sorry that I’d ever called Lindir a priss. Precise, careful, meticulous, thoughtful – all of those were better words to characterize how Lindir approached my agreement. First, before he got out his ink or sharpened his quill, he sat down beside me as I put Míriel and her toys on her soft pad outside our tent, and had me tell him everything Beorn and I had agreed on. Then he explained what treaties needed to say. As he talked, it seemed to me that many treaties included a lot of lofty words that didn’t actually say anything. Beorn was such a direct sort that I thought he’d view such words with suspicion, so I didn’t want to include them. Before I could tell Lindir that, though, he looked thoughtful.

“If I may offer a suggestion, Kíli, I don’t think you should put frills to this. Such fair words and silk ribbons might suit the king of the Woodland Realm, but from what you’ve told me, I think Beorn would appreciate plainer words.”

“Exactly!” I agreed. “As clear as full daylight at noon – that’s what I want.”

“Then that is what we shall write.” Lindir put his lap desk atop his crossed legs, laid a blank sheet of parchment over it, unstoppered his ink flash, and took up his quill. “So, first we’ll say who the agreement is between – Beorn, and the Dwarves emigrating from the Blue Mountains to Erebor. Then, we’ll list each of the points...”

In short order, Lindir sorted out each point, and we got them on the parchment. He had a good suggestion, to explicitly write down that this agreement had no ending point, so the Dwarves couldn’t run amok decades from now without giving Beorn some recourse. I had him put in the part about chasing and eating fools who didn’t behave themselves, not because I thought Beorn would really eat anyone, but because I wanted to impress on the Dwarves that they’d better behave. Lindir looked askance at me, but he did it, smiling perversely. It was not an expression I thought the aide was capable of, but once again he surprised me.

“I have never written a treaty before that allowed one party to devour the other, Kíli,” he said as he finished the last part of what we’d decided to say. “Here, let us both read it, and see if we have everything you and Beorn agreed to.”

Thanks to Lindir’s care, the parchment stated everything clearly. As a last step, he put space at the end for Beorn to make his mark, and I mine. I clapped Lindir on the back, but gently – Elves weren’t built as sturdily as Dwarves.

“That was a good day’s work,” I said. “My thanks to you, Lindir, for getting the words down so well.”

Lindir put his hand to his heart and bowed over his lap desk. “I am glad to help.”

“Good,” I grinned wryly. “Because I’ll need you even more when we get to the Woodland Realm. In no way will King Thranduil be as easy to bring to agreement as Beorn. In fact, he’ll likely be a right bastard, just because he can.”

Lindir hummed in sympathy. “Perhaps Lord Elrond can help, speaking one ruler to another. He’s made his agreement with your folk, and can speak to his negotiations to reassure King Thranduil.”

“I hope so,” I exhaled. “But we don’t need to worry about that tonight. We’ve worked hard enough for our supper. It’s time to take our ease.”

Lindir gathered his writing things, and I collected Míriel and her toys. Rhiannel sat at our hearth when we ducked inside the tent.

“Giriel, Tethrandil, and Tauriel all went ahead to help with the meal,” Rhiannel told us. “I’ve got our fire banked, and the teakettle warming for later. Did you get your treaty written out? Are you ready to join the rest?”

“Thanks to Lindir, it’s written,” I replied, putting Míriel’s pad and toys in our space. I nuzzled our bairn, making her laugh gleefully and pat my nose. “So I’m quite ready for supper, aren’t I, Miri? I know you want some of _Taad’s_ soup, don’t you?”

“I’m ready, too,” Lindir agreed as he set his lap desk atop his blankets.

“Then off with us,” Rhiannel got up. “Though there’s no meat in the stew tonight, Kíli, in deference to Beorn.”

“I’ll make do,” I assured my fellow Orc Spawn. “That’s the least I can do to celebrate my first agreement.”

Supper was quiet, despite having so many things to celebrate. We’d left the perilous mountains behind, and had settled the first of my agreements almost before we had realized it. We were all well, and Míriel was delighted to have the freedom to crawl between her aunties and uncles to her heart’s content. We also got to enjoy our first hot meal since setting out from Imladris. Beorn was not with us, nor were Gandalf or Lord Elrond, but we saw them conversing some little distance off over their supper, so were unconcerned. Still, we took care not to revel too loudly or long, and set a substantial guard, in case Orcs or Goblins thought to harass us during the night.

Rhiannel was right about there being no meat in the stew, but it was fresh, flavorful, and hot. I had a lot sopped over tubers roasted in the hot ashes of the cook fire, and there was more than enough warm flatbread and butter to fill up the corners. We drank no wine tonight, given the watchful eye we had to keep out, but we had plenty of tea to savor. Folk left the fire as those standing duty took up their places around the camp and the horses’ picket lines. As full dark fell, the Orc Spawn retreated to our tent to take up the storytelling we’d told Lindir about. We left our boots at the door, Rhiannel set out the tea, and soon all of us were comfortably gathered around the hearth.

Of course, the first tale we had to tell was how the Orc Spawn had come to tell stories, for Tethrandil and Lindir hadn’t heard how the rest of us had been snowed in atop Amon Sûl. Giriel told most of that one, and I followed her to tell about the Dwarvish nomad clans.

When Tauriel took up the chain to talk about the Woodland Realm, I kept one eye on Míriel, to keep her out of the fire and away from the teacups, and the other on Lindir and Tethrandil. The latter fit into the flow as easily as he did in the guardroom and on the training field. I’d expected Lindir to be less comfortable, but happily he seemed relaxed and content to listen to the banter back and forth as he absorbed this new situation.

When I asked Lindir to choose a story to tell us, he didn’t hesitate. He spoke of a spectacular flight of falling stars he’d seen long ago, and how the night sky had been as full of lights as if Gandalf had set off his fireworks. Of course, that led to the tale of the fire moon I’d told Tauriel in the depths of King Thranduil’s cell block, and that led to Tauriel’s tale of the starlight festival. Tethrandil was next, relating how he’d watched a star flare brilliantly one night, and how that brilliance had lasted for some months before dying out completely. There was much speculation around the hearth as to how such a thing could happen, and whether it was an omen or not. Elves as a rule were not superstitious, and the consensus was that something had caused the star to burn away like an ember flying up from a fire and dying before it fell to the ground.

It was good to spend an hour or two with friends, passing tales back and forth, but soon enough I was ready for sleep. I bid my friends goodnight, and left them around the fire to talk lowly while I found my blankets.

Tauriel brought Míriel with her so they could lie down with me until I fell asleep, as was Tauriel’s habit. Míriel was still animated, wanting to play after so many days of confinement. Finally, Tauriel asked the four around the hearth to distract our babe until I fell asleep. Míriel crawled off to be with her auntie and uncles, and Tauriel lay beside me.

“I won’t be awake long, _amrâlimê_ ,” I murmured, stroking my wife’s beautiful red hair. “It seems that I’m not as fit as I thought. All I did was chop a few pieces of wood, and I’m ready to drift away.”

“Chopping wood is not all you did today, Kíli,” Tauriel reminded me. “You negotiated a treaty. That, as Lindir will assure you, is very hard work.”

“Lindir’s all right,” I said drowsily. “He sorted me and that treaty out in no time. It’s no wonder Lord Elrond relies on him so much. So what if he doesn’t like racing around the plain like Giriel does? She can’t hold still for her _amrâlimê_ , much less sort out a fiddly agreement.”

Tauriel smiled in the dimness. “Then it is good that we have both of them with us, the one to watch over us on the plain, and the other to watch over us when making treaties.”

I grinned, and eased my wife close. “And I have you to smile sweetly at skin changers, and wield your knives around spiders intent on Dwarves for breakfast, and give all manner of Orcs what for. Now, I’d better reward you for all of those things tonight, because surely I’ll be on night duty tomorrow, and unable to thank you properly.”

“Do not worry about that, Kíli. You will serve no night duty on this journey.”

I blinked. “I won’t? That hardly seems fair. Why not?”

Tauriel stroked my hair, smiling indulgently. “You are not a common guardsman on this trip, _a’maelamin_. You are Imladris’s ambassador at large for all things Dwarvish, and the sole representative of the Blue Mountain Dwarves, yes? Such an eminent person does not stand sentry duty over packhorses and guardsmen’s tents.”

That gave me pause. That gave me great pause. Despite all the haggling with _Maamr_ , and all the sorting out of details, even talking with Beorn this afternoon... it wasn’t until my _amrâlimê_ told me that I wouldn’t stand night duty that all this... sank in.

All I’d wanted was a private life with my cherished wife and daughter. I’d said yes to this business about ambassadors only because it gained me that life. But in doing so... now I was... important?

I sighed. I didn’t feel important. I didn’t feel one particle of importance about me at all. In fact, I felt like a thief in the night, fooling all these Elves that I was in any way shape or form able to do anything but stand night duty over a picket line.

Oh, Valar. _Valar_...

Tauriel’s fingers insinuated over my shoulder, finding the base of my neck where my mane grew down to my shoulders, and started to rub gently. I shut my eyes, trying to focus only on how good that felt, on how lucky I was that she was my most precious _amrâlimê_ , on the joy and happiness we’d found in our adopted city of Imladris. But even with that bounty to distract me, I felt very young, and very small.

“We will manage, Kíli. Do not worry. Our friends will stand with us, and all will be well.”

I managed to smother my snort. Did I look terrified, then, if my wife resorted to out and out platitudes to ease me? There wasn’t just King Thranduil left to tackle – we had the cursed necklace to deal with, too. But I kept silent about both. There was no reason to make Tauriel feel as unsettled as I did.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Kili finds that being an ambassador requires uncomfortable and embarrassing changes to his life, and reminds him of how much rests on his shoulders. He soldiers on, determined to keep smiling as he tries his hardest to make sense of everything despite feeling so rattled. When the company comes under surprise attack, however, he finds that trying hard isn't enough to keep the light of his life from wounding him as no Orc can.
> 
> You know Giriel will weigh in, and not politely, don't you? The surprise is Tethrandil. The quietest Orc Spawn finally has a reason to make his presence known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Miz barathar curp = my bloody ass (Khazuduhl)  
> Skator-u arkuli = to hell with protectors (mixed Orcish and Khazuduhl)  
> daguli lulgijakone-ob = demons of the Elves (Orcish)  
> oselle = sister (Quenya)

  _“And what of those rumors of the dead rising, Gandalf?” Beorn asked, when the Elves bearing trays of soup and bread had retreated. “You confirmed that the mountains high above the source of the Hoarwell held dark tombs.”_

_The wizard nodded. “The tombs lie above the High Fells of Rhudaur. There were nine of them. They were sealed long ago against the evil of those buried there.”_

_“The Witch King of Angmar was chief among those buried there,” Lord Elrond murmured, staring into his wine cup. “His second was an Easterling king. Many of the rest were_ _Númenóreans. All of their names are now forgotten, even by my people, but their evil has not.”_

_“The nine were mortal men, high kings all, once upon a time. Each bore a ring forged by Elves that gave them powers beyond many, and long life. But Sauron had corrupted the rings, and the rings corrupted their bearers, so one by one, all nine of them fell to the master of their corruption. Their enemies laid powerful enchantments upon their tombs to deny them even the light of day, so that they did not rise again to plague Middle Earth. Yet those enchantments were overthrown by the Necromancer who returned to Dol Guldur.”_

_“So this Necromancer raised them from their tombs?” Beorn prompted._

_Gandalf’s nod was grim. “So he did. And in raising the nine, he revealed his true self.”_

_“Sauron,” Beorn said._

_“Yes,” said Gandalf._

_Beorn grunted, and looked away into the night. “Where did these withered spirits go?”_

_“They joined their master, who fled to Mordor.” The wizard turned his gaze upon Beorn. “Mount Gundebad and its Orcs will continue to pester the lands for some little time longer, but they will never rise to their strength again. Guard against them, but concentrate your defenses to the south, Beorn. That is where the final peril will come. Not tomorrow, or even in ten years. But it will come, and when it does, the world will not be the same again.”_

_Beorn turned his gaze from out into the dark to the Elves’ cooking fires, noting the lone Dwarf who sat beside his Elvish wife and played with their little one with such attention, such affection. “And is that why you led a Dwarf and an Elf to wed, to strengthen the ties between two folk so different, because they will need to become allies in the future?”_

_Gandalf chuckled softly. “Oh, no, my dear Beorn. Kíli and Tauriel did that all on their own. But it gives me hope that their folk will rise above their petty squabbles when they need to.”_

_“So Kíli will make a treaty with the king of the Woodland Realm next, for the safe passage of his folk through the forest?”_

_“That is our hope,” Lord Elrond nodded, following Beorn’s gaze._

_Beorn flashed his wide grin that came and went like lightning. “I met the king of the Woodland Realm once, long ago. He is a proud king, quick to rouse, and slow to decide. Kili is good folk, for a Dwarf. More patient than most of his kind. Still, tell him to put aside his axe when he talks with the king, or he may be tempted to use it.”_

_Lord Elrond’s smile was crooked as he exchanged a look with Gandalf. Beorn should also have suggested that Lord Elrond put aside his sword, and Gandalf his staff, for both of them expected the king of the Woodland Realm to exhaust their patience, too._

 

* * *

 

As soon as I felt tension leap into Kíli’s body, I knew what I’d done. I’d thought to praise him because he was no longer a shadow behind his uncle and older brother, but worthy on his own merits. Instead, I’d reminded him that he was no longer the simple Dwarf he’d been before we’d journeyed to the Blue Mountains to keep his promise to Dís. Kíli was not ambitious for power. He would have been happiest if we’d remained two insignificant émigrés to Imladris, living in obscurity as he and I raised our children. But I had married a Dwarf of integrity who kept his promises, no matter the cost, and so obscurity would not be his.

Still, Kíli’s disinclination to seek power gave me comfort. Better that he looked out for his folk, allies, friends, and family than someone less principled. But that didn’t ease my guilt when he sobered from his normal loving playfulness to lie still and silent beside me. My reassurances sounded awkward even to me, but Kíli rubbed my arm anyway, and forced himself to sleep. When he breathed evenly, his tension eased, and I got up to retrieve Míriel from our friends.

Tethrandil and Lindir were the only ones left at the hearth, for Rhiannel and Giriel had retreated to their blankets. Míriel was happily playing with her new uncles, crawling back and forth between them after her squeaky ball. I joined them for a few moments, but soon took Míriel out into the night with me to take the starlight while I thought.

I was not surprised when Kíli joined me less than an hour later. Despite the watchful sentries ringing the camp, I had stayed near our tent. Míriel played quietly with her doll and her wooden ram on a pad, and I sat beside her. Kíli paused by the door to pull on his boots, then came outside to arm his way into his shirt. His hand stroked my hair as he squatted on his heels beside me.

“I am sorry that I disturbed your sleep,” I sighed, touching his knee. “I upset you, which was not my intent.”

He took my hand in his. “You didn’t upset me, _amrâlimê_. You just made me realize that this ambassador business is real, that’s all. I feel like the biggest liar, Tauriel. I’m just a smith. A warrior. Not any kind of importance.”

I touched my forehead to his in the Dwarvish fashion. “You settled an important treaty, _amrâlimê_. All on your own.”

He bent into my caress, smiling ruefully. “I didn’t think about it. It just... happened.”

“It did not just _happen_ ,” I refuted gently. “Your quality is a deep part of you, and you don’t have to think about it for it to be obvious to others. Beorn knew you meant everything you said, and would keep your word. As you are honest and true, so is Beorn. Like spoke to like.”

He hummed. “Maybe so. It felt right.” He let a long moment go by in silence. “Thranduil, though... I don’t know how any part of me is going to speak to any part of him. He’s... so full of pride. I hope I’m nothing like that. Besides, why would he listen to a Dwarf who has thoroughly annoyed him, including corrupting his captain of the guard so much that she cursed him and he banished her? Now I’m about to saunter into his kingdom carrying a potted plant saying, ‘what ho, king, now that I’ve stolen your captain of the guard, I’m back to warn you that a lot of annoying Dwarves are about to inundate your kingdom, and here’s a posy to convince you to help them inundate your kingdom.’ He’ll pitch me out on my ear.”

“ ‘What ho?’ ” I repeated incredulously. “You will salute the king with, ‘what ho?’ ”

“I could call him a _kurvanog lulgijakone_ instead, but I don’t think that would make him any happier.”

“That means...?”

“Fucking Elf. Maybe it’d sound better I if strung it all together – ‘what ho, _kurvanog_ _lulgijakone_.’ Does that sound better? Or perhaps ‘what ho, you bloody _kurvanog lulgijakone_.’ ”

I smothered a laugh. “I do not think that any of those would impress King Thranduil.”

“Too bad. A Dwarf would turn around and call me a _kurvanog shakutarbik_ – fucking Dwarf – we’d both have a good laugh, and then we’d get on with things.”

“You said that Gandalf thought you had grasped the most important part of negotiation, yes?”

Kíli nodded. “ ‘What’s in this for me?’ ”

“And you know that your folk will come whether King Thranduil agrees to negotiate terms or not.”

He nodded again.

“So you will remind the king that dealing with you means less annoyance for him. He does not like annoyance.”

He nuzzled my ear. “It’d be more fun to say, ‘what ho, you bloody _kurvanog lulgijakone_.’ ”

“Go back to sleep, Kíli. Or you will be too sleepy to curse anyone with conviction.”

He snickered, kissed me, kissed Míriel, and went back to his blankets. I felt better now that we were both in better spirits.

 

* * *

 

Despite the hard time I had falling asleep, I awoke feeling good. The private moment of silliness with Tauriel and Míriel last night had calmed my apprehension, and I had a list of things to pursue once I had breakfast. I sat up to find Tauriel beside me suckling Míriel, and Giriel at the hearth enjoying porridge. I kissed both the former good morn, and joined the latter for my own bowl. Of course, it took me twice as long to eat mine as it normally would, because Giriel wanted to know every scrap of my conversation with Beorn, and then everything about him. Tauriel was quietly chuckling at our exuberant cohort when Lindir stuck his head in the tent.

“Good morn, Kíli,” he said formally, making me sit up straight. “Lord Elrond and Gandalf would like you to attend as soon as possible.”

I put my bowl aside. “I’ll be right there, Lindir. What’s this about?”

“Beorn has returned.”

I got up, pulled on my trews and boots, and pointed to the door. “Lead on.”

“Wait, Kíli!” Tauriel and Giriel both chorused.

“At least comb your hair, and put on a clean shirt,” my wife added, pulling me back to the hearth and down beside her.

I sighed. “But they said as soon as possible, didn’t they? Didn’t they, Lindir? I mean, I negotiated a treaty bare-chested and with an axe in my hand, so...”

“So today you will comb your hair and put on a clean shirt,” Tauriel said firmly, tossing Giriel my comb. Giriel already had her fingers in my hair, unwinding the rumpled braids.

“Just sit, and I’ll have this half done in a moment,” Giriel said, combing away. “Finish your tea. Lindir, take Míriel, so Tauriel can get the other half.”

Lindir found himself with Míriel in hand, who looked up at him with a considering eye. She must have thought her mother and auntie were worthy of imitation, because she got a handful of Lindir’s hair and tugged, making him yelp. She giggled as Lindir tried to juggle her out of range with one hand while freeing his hair with the other, neither successfully. Meanwhile, Tauriel pulled out a clean tunic, and set to the rest of my braids. I grimaced. “I already have a mother, thank you both.”

“She’s gone, so it’s up to the Orc Spawn to see that our ambassador does us proud,” Giriel shot back. She gathered a handful of hair and handed it off to Tauriel. “Tauriel, I’m done this side. Here, for the twist. Where is the clasp?”

“Off to the side.” Tauriel’s fingers flew to weave my marriage braid down the back. “Turn a bit, Kíli.”

I did so, glowering at Lindir, who was grinning despite Míriel’s insults to his hair. “ _Miz barathar curp,_ maids! Fuss over Míriel, why don’t you? I can comb my _kurvanog_ hair myself, can’t I? Giriel, stop it!”

Giriel had taken up one of Míriel’s clean diapers to scrub at my face. I batted her hand away in exasperation, drawing her grin.

“ _Miz barathar curp_ yourself, Kíli! You’ve got porridge on your face, so if you don’t want me to get it off, make sure you get it off yourself.”

I grabbed the cloth, scrubbed, and glared at her. “Good enough?”

“Don’t forget to put your shirt on,” Tauriel tossed in, fastening the braid clasp on the long plait down my back. “There, you’ll do.”

“ _Skator-u arkuli_ ,” I muttered, grabbing my shirt from her. I stood up, yanked it over my head, and held my arms wide. “There. Do I have your approval now, _daguli lulgijakone-ob_?”

“Valar, that sounds serious,” Giriel snickered.

“Then he is well awake as well as well dressed,” Tauriel grinned back. “Here, Lindir, I will take Míriel, and you will take our distinguished ambassador to Lord Elrond.”

You do look distinguished now, Kíli,” Lindir tried to placate me, but I stuck out my tongue at the maids’ snickers.

“Don’t you start, too, my lad,” I growled. “I’m a Dwarf – well, half of me is – and we don’t look distinguished in the morn...” Lindir looked back at me in confusion. “Oh, don’t bother. Both halves of me are right behind you. Oh, no, I’m not. I forgot to take the agreement for Beorn!”

Lindir was smart enough to say nothing as I dashed back inside the tent, grabbed the parchment Lindir and I had worked so hard on, and scrambled out again. When I’d fallen in beside him, we headed towards Lord Elrond’s tent, where Gandalf stood between Beorn and the high lord around a portable table. A map was unrolled atop the table, and Elf, wizard, and giant all studied it intently.

“Good morn, all,” I greeted, sketching a bow. “Lindir said you wanted me?”

“Good morning, Kíli,” Gandalf nodded, smiling as he tapped the map. “We are discussing the route for today’s travel.”

I nodded understanding and took my place at the table.

“You had talked about traveling along the route you wanted your folk to follow when they emigrated,” Gandalf said.

“I did.” I pointed at the thin line that was the Old Forest Road. “I thought it would give me a chance to see it for myself, and I could write down everything that needs doing, so when my folk arrive, we have the proper workers in the first caravans, so we can make the repairs we agree on.”

“If I may make a suggestion,” Lord Elrond offered.

“Of course,” I nodded quickly. It was a decidedly odd feeling, having the high lord of Imladris ask to venture an opinion to me.

“King Thranduil’s cavern is in the far northeast corner of Mirkwood, while the path the Dwarves may take is far to the south. I think it would be wise to travel to see the king first, and then once you and he come to agreement, it would be more appropriate to travel the Old Forest Road to note the work needed.”

“That’s right,” I realized. “There’s no point in surveying a path until I know it’s the right path. But... angling north takes us across Beorn’s lands, and we just agreed to stay to the south...”

I hesitated, looking at the skin changer, but he traced a long finger down the wavering line that was the Anduin River. “You have my leave to cross our lands to Mirkwood. I will take you to the ford at the Carrock, some forty miles up the river.” He pointed to the tiny point above the Old Ford. “We keep that ford in better repair, so you can see how to rework the Old Ford for your path. Both are a series of step stones, not a bridge. There used to be a bridge at the Old Ford many, many years ago, but it is long since gone. The step stones there are very old.”

I nodded understanding. “Given that the Misty Mountains are passable only by horse, pony, or ram, the lack of a bridge isn’t critical, as the émigrés won’t have carts with them in any case, so step stones would work well. Seeing your ford at the Carrock again would be most helpful.”

“My home is near to the Carrock, as you know. You may stay there a day or two to take your measure of the ford, before you venture into Mirkwood.”

“So we’ll go to Mirkwood by the same path we took on the way to Erebor?” I asked, looking at Gandalf, who nodded. “I’d be happy to see your house again, Beorn. It was a peaceful place. And I’d like to see your bees again, too.”

The giant’s eyes seemed to warm a bit when they met mine.

“So we are decided,” Lord Elrond gathered the map, rolled it up, and handed it to Lindir to put in a special case. “Lindir, please pass the word to strike the tents.”

“Yes, my lord.” Lindir bustled off.

“Beorn,” I called, when the giant turned away, holding up my parchment. “I wrote down our agreement as I said I would, so you can make sure it’s what we agreed to. If it is, I’ll copy it for each of us.”

He nodded as he held out his hand. “That is good. I like folk who do what they say they will.”

“Yes, sir.” I handed over the document. “So do I.”

Beorn spread Lindir’s carefully written parchment on Lord Elrond’s table, folded himself down onto the ground, and read it without rushing. He flashed that wide smile once, probably at the part about eating misbehavers, but he didn’t tell me to take it out. Gandalf and Lord Elrond make no secret of their interest, reading on either side of the table, both of them shooting me expressions of varying incredulity, likely at that same part, but I kept my eyes on Beorn. He read it through twice, nodding.

“Good,” he pronounced it. “You added that this treaty is to remain in place for as long as Dwarves cross the land. I like that.”

“That was Lindir’s idea,” I explained. “I thought it was a good thing to put in, given how much Dwarves love to find the exception in everything.”

“Without doubt.” Beorn handed the parchment back to me.

“Then I’ll copy this out when we make camp again, and then we can sign and witness them.”

“Well done, Kíli,” Gandalf murmured.

Elves were already collecting Lord Elrond’s things, so I bowed to him, the wizard, and Beorn before taking myself back to the Orc Spawn tent. I had a big grin on my face by the time I got there.

“Tauriel!” I heralded. “Tauriel! It’s the best news!”

“Beorn liked your agreement?” she asked breathlessly.

“Oh... yes, he did, but this is even better. We’re going to his home! It’s the most amazing place you’ve ever seen, Tauriel! Wait until you see it! The bees are as big as Miri!”

The rest of the Orc Spawn gathered around, and we set to dismantling and packing as I told them about my first visit to Beorn’s house. We kept up our chatter as we rounded up packhorses and baggage frames and arranged everything compactly. Míriel oversaw the operation from her blanket in the middle of us, then as so many folk came and went with horses, she watched over my shoulder from her carrying basket. In no time, all that remained of our camp was trampled grass. I climbed atop Trellennan, fell into line between Tauriel and Tethrandil, and we headed north.

 

* * *

 

_Lord Elrond watched Kíli and his cohorts talk excitedly about the impending visit to Beorn’s home, shaking his head at how enthusiastically the Dwarf pitched in to help his cohorts pack and roll and fold and stow their collection of gear._

_“He is much too honest to be an ambassador,” he commented to Gandalf._

_The wizard turned to regard Kíli, and smiled. “He made a most satisfactory agreement with Beorn, did he not?”_

_“That, I expected,” the Elf conceded. “But I do not expect an easy time with the king of the Woodland Realm. He will read Kíli as easily as a book, for there is no guile in our young friend.”_

_“That is why Kíli made a most satisfactory agreement with Beorn. The skin changer is also without guile.”_

_“King Thranduil has enough for both of them and twice as many more, Mithrandir.”_

_Gandalf’s smile remained. “Oh, he does. It ought to be most refreshing for him to encounter someone so straightforward.”_

_The high Elf regarded the wizard with bemusement. “And most infuriating for Kíli.”_

_Gandalf’s smile grew into laughter. “It may be so. If Thranduil acts badly, and if Kíli refuses to be cowed, he’ll give Thranduil an earful of Dwarvish directness. If Kíli is wise about what he is direct about, Thranduil will see reason. With you and I there to support Kili, perhaps the king will see reason early on.”_

_“Perhaps.”_

_“I’m still not sure what to do about Tauriel,” the wizard mused, watching the Orc Spawn. “Thranduil banished her, and it would not seem prudent to flaunt his authority by visiting his realm with her in our party.”_

_“Then why did you urge her inclusion, Mithrandir?”_

_Gandalf stroked his beard. “I am not sure. A feeling, I suppose.”_

_Lord Elrond grimaced. “Your feelings have gotten us in trouble before, mellon nin.”_

_“They have,” Gandalf said comfortably. “But I find that they are generally right.”_

_“They are a concern, right or not.”_

_Gandalf regarded the Elf somberly. “I’m more concerned about your dealings with Thranduil, Lord Elrond. This is no trinket I carry, and something must be done about it. But broaching the subject with one so guileful, even if only in general, will be touchy.” He cast the lord a smile. “It is good that you are no stranger to guile.”_

_Lord Elrond looked back at Kíli, sighing. “I much prefer to deal with those less guileful.”_

_Gandalf’s sigh was as resigned as the high lord’s. “He is a white-haired Elf king, not a white-haired wizard. Let us be grateful for that.”_

 

* * *

 

It was good to see Kíli’s eyes sparkle so brightly as we got underway. Beorn strode ahead with Lord Elrond and Gandalf riding beside him, the Elvish warriors arrayed themselves on the perimeters, and the Orc Spawn followed the three leaders. Kíli was gleeful as he described Beorn’s wonderful house and surrounding gardens, and the fierce thorn thicket that surrounded the area around his house. The animals sounded too amazing to be believed, from dogs that walked on their hind legs and bees as big as Míriel. The lack of meat for sustenance didn’t worry him, for he waxed nearly poetic about the bread and honey. He swore Bilbo ate his weight of those two items alone. The salads, vegetables, and fruits he promised would surpass the expectations of even the most finicky of Elvish appetites.

Contrast that gaiety, then, with what followed not an hour after we left camp. Ahead of us was a wide swath of land where the grasses rose higher than the horses’ shoulders, and undulated in the sporadic breeze like the water in the Long Lake at Esgaroth, or Laketown in the Common Tongue. Beorn plunged into the grasses without concern, so we followed, but I noticed that the perimeter guard ranged a bit wider this time, given how little we could see through the grasses. It was a perfect spot for an ambush, which sprang upon us no sooner than I had registered the thought. The perimeter guard spotted black shadows racing towards us, cutting paths through the high grasses like predatory fish, and raced back to the main group in full voice.

“Orcs!” came the cry. “Orcs!”

With a roar, Beorn ran past the perimeter guard, dropping to all fours. In the heavy grass, I didn’t see his transformation into a great bear clearly, but what I did see was terrifying. He lunged into the oncoming paths, sending up howls from those unfortunate enough to meet him.

Beorn did not repel the creatures on his own. My bow was in my hand before I thought, and I stood in my stirrups to see where the foul creatures approached. Beside me, Kíli had nocked an arrow in his bow, and around us, the Orc Spawn were equally ready. I found the closest trail weaving through the grass towards me, and waited until it almost was at Jalsin’s feet before I let my arrow loose. I was rewarded with a gust of expelled breath and a grey body stumbling under my horse’s nose. For good measure, Jalsin kicked the body, but the creature was already dead.

Kíli had hit his first target, and drew a bead on the second. Before he could shoot, however, the Imladris guardsmen had surrounded him, shouting at him to close ranks with Lord Elrond and Gandalf. He was too surprised to protest, but sent Trellennan after the high lord, still keeping his bow at the ready. The rest of the Orc Spawn and I joined with the guardsmen, to circle around the three in the middle, shooting into the grass. The Orcs were not mounted, and they could not overwhelm the twenty-nine of us bolstered with Beorn’s ferocity. I heard the sporadic ring of blades against flesh, but fewer and fewer of them, until they ceased. We held still with blades and bows at the ready, listening, but the air was silent but for the wind.

Míriel called to her _Taad_.

I blanched. Oh, Valar, Míriel had ridden through her first Orc battle on her father’s back. She sounded unconcerned, if questioning, but my heart was in my throat. She was eight months old, and somehow she’d managed to stay in her carry basket on Kíli’s back while he rode around shooting at Orcs.

I kneed Jalsin around, looking for Kíli, but he’d already lifted our babe out of her basket. His face was white as he held her. When he found her unhurt, he held her to his chest, but that frightened me even more.

“What were you thinking?” I snarled as I came alongside him. “You had our daughter, Kíli! You rode around shooting Orcs with our daughter on your back!”

If anything, Kíli’s face paled even more at my outburst. “I’m sorry! What was I supposed to do? They were all around us, and I protected her as best I could! Valar, Tauriel, what else was I supposed to do?”

“You had Míriel, and you are an ambassador! You are not a perimeter guard anymore! You ride to the middle with the rest of the elites, and you let the rest of us see to the Orcs!”

If I’d thought Kíli couldn’t blanch any paler, I was wrong. He turned as ashen as if every drop of blood had drained out of him. But that wasn’t the worst – the light in his eyes died, leaving nothing but dark misery. Every spark of animation vanished.

“Enough, Tauriel,” Rhiannel urged quietly as he rode between Kíli and me. “Míriel is safe, and with so much tall grass Kíli did not know where the middle was any more than the rest of us did. He did what he thought was best.”

“She could have been killed!” I wailed.

Without a word, Kili kneed Trellennan away, still cradling Míriel in his arms.

Giriel grabbed my arm, jerking it painfully. “And you are killing her father now, _osellë_. Stop it.”

The lump in my throat swelled until I couldn’t swallow. Tethrandil rode up with bow in hand, his face grim with worry. “Who is hurt?”

“Kíli is,” Giriel growled, her grip tightening on my arm. “Ask Tauriel why.”

“Now you hurt her,” Rhiannel rebuked his _a’maelamin_ quietly. “Leave it, Giriel, until your temper cools. Go see that there are no more Orcs.”

Giriel glared at me, but pushed my arm away with a muttered curse she’d picked up from Kíli, and rode off.

“Is anyone hurt?” Tethrandil repeated. I shook my head, but couldn’t speak. Rhiannel explained in low words, drawing our comrade’s relieved but concerned sigh. He returned his bow to its saddle harness, and then regarded Kíli atop Trellennan. Around him, the perimeter guards pulled arrows from dead Orcs and checked horses for injuries. My husband stood alone, apart from everyone, so lost that I swallowed hard. In truth, what _had_ I expected him to do when the Orcs had attacked?

Tethrandil returned his gaze to me, and sighed. “Has no one bothered to explain to Kíli what a dignitary is supposed to do when under attack?”

I blinked at the white-haired Elf. He measured my surprise quickly, his lips quirking up in resignation.

“I thought not. Many folk have stuffed his head full of theory and potential, yet not one has offered practical advice.”

“As many drover contracts as he worked, as many caravans he’s guarded, everyone thought he knew. And Kíli himself never asked...” I stammered into silence, feeling like a fool.

“Of course not. How was he to ask about something he knew nothing about?” Tethrandil shrugged. “Then I will tell him. We all must help him. He is our brother, and to some of us, far more.”

Tethrandil guided his horse away from Rhiannel and me, pacing slowly towards Kíli. I made to ride after him, but Rhiannel touched my arm.

“Let Tethrandil go to Kíli, Tauriel. Your _a’maelamin_ feels quite lost, and Tethrandil will help him better then we will.”

“How can he do that?” I whispered helplessly.

Rhiannel smiled reassuringly. “Because what our white-haired Orc Spawn does not know about protocol is not worth knowing.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Kili's feeling pretty low, so we'll see how he weathers the storm. To all you Tethrandil fans, our newest hero steps up his game.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the ride!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> otorno, otornoa = brother, brothers

I sat atop my horse, my daughter in my arms. Around us, Elvish guardsmen busied themselves seeing to the living as well as the dead. It was a chore I knew well, one I’d done quite often.

But apparently I wasn’t a guardsman anymore.

I wasn’t sure what I was, other than the mongrel I’d always been.

This morning, I hadn’t been competent to dress my hair or wash my face without keepers. Now Tauriel had made it clear that I wasn’t fit to protect my daughter, either.

She’d called me an... elite. That probably meant incompetent.

Maybe it meant important. Likely not, but if it did, it was clear that I wasn’t, which doubled the insult.

_Don’t think, Kíli. Don’t think about the words or who said them. See to Míriel. You’ll find your breath again in a moment, the way you always do. It could have been worse, they could have stuck a knife in your ribs or given you another flogging or thrown you out into the grass and ridden off, though that might have been better because you wouldn’t have to face them without showing what you feel, the way you’ve had to do a thousand times before..._

But she was my _amrâlimê_...

Even Fíli would laugh to hear me say that my heart was breaking. I would laugh, too, but it would hurt too much.

I shut my eyes, pressed a kiss on the top of Míriel’s head, and assured myself again that she was unhurt. No matter that she burbled her nonsense words as if she’d enjoyed our brief race through the sea of grasses.

What should I have done differently? My bow had been the best protection I’d had to offer Míriel, to keep the vermin as far from her as possible. There’d been nowhere to put her, nowhere to retreat, given the Orcs coming at us from all sides. What else should I have done? I’d been trained to fight by the best Dwarvish warriors there were, and I had reacted as they’d taught me, yet Tauriel had screamed at me with a dragon’s fury. Were Elvish tactics so different that my training made me look like a fool in their eyes? Her eyes?

Oh, Valar. She had been my _amrâlimê_. Maybe she wasn’t now.

“Kíli.”

I straightened. That was Tethrandil’s soft voice behind me. “Tethrandil,” I acknowledged, my voice even.

“When someone lashes out in fear, do not torture yourself with her words. You are a good warrior, and you know that you acted as well as the Orcs allowed.”

I shut my eyes. “So I tell myself.”

“Tauriel will tell herself that soon enough, and then you.”

I swallowed and kissed Míriel’s hair, but I couldn’t find a word to say.

“Your position is not easy, _otorno_. You have a passionate _a’maelamin_ , an adopted home, a child, a new role. You stand in the doorway between two folk as no one else does. There has been little to help you navigate such strange waters.”

I grimaced. “I’m... well aware of my shortcomings, Tethrandil. I appreciate the solace, but...”

“In this moment, all you want is solitude. I understand. You will feel differently soon, because you have courage to do all these things that no one else has tried, and you will go on. In that moment, know that your _otornoa_ and _osellëa_ will help you. You see, an ambassador cannot exist alone, Kíli. The Orc Spawn have been remiss, for while you have tried very hard to become an ambassador, we have not tried very hard to become an ambassador’s advisors.”

I blinked, and looked around. Tethrandil leaned over his arms folded upon the high front of his saddle, regarding me patiently. I kneed Trellennan around a bit to face him. “An ambassador has advisors?”

He sighed, shaking his head. “You have been thrown into your duties the way some folk teach their children to swim.”

He mimicked something being tossed into the air, which got a bit of a smile from me. “I had an easier time with the swimming than that.”

“And not much else, I hazard,” he replied with an ironic smile, “this new role being a prime example. Yes, an ambassador has advisors.”

“Oh. Um... how does one... get advisors?”

“The ambassador chooses them, for the most part. In some places, the advisors are nothing more than cronies and hangers-on. Those are not what you need.”

I blinked again. “How do you know so much about this?”

His smile waxed even more ironic. “It is one product of a long life, I suppose. I was long Lord Elrond’s chief trade negotiator. After nine hundred and seventy-three years, the role had palled, and I chose to go into the guard. That is a much more spontaneous life, which appealed after so long at contracts about barrels of fish and hanks of flax. When you came, Kíli, I liked the fresh changes you offered our good Master Oteriel. So when you returned from the Blue Mountains and took on new duties, I thought that was good, too. But our folk have known their ways for so long that they do not know how to prepare a newcomer. So first, I tell you that you can choose your advisors. Second, as yours is a new approach, you need advisors who can support you without retreating to only what has come before. The Orc Spawn are all good candidates.

“I can help you with the practical things that no one has thought to tell you – protocol, especially. Rhiannel is very good with diplomacy. Giriel is fiery, but she quickly sees to the heart of things, and can help you cut through the veils of words to divine true intent. Drennal is very good with logistics and animals, and Fallin is a good organizer and leader, and their combination will make your duties run smoothly. As for others, Lindir is an excellent administrator and earnest, and he appreciates your friendship. Mithrandir... a wizard with a true heart is always a good advisor, and his is the truest.

“Your _a’maelamin_ is an excellent strategist as well as tactician, a rare combination. She also served the Woodland king for centuries, and will be a wealth of information about how he conducts his court, his audiences, his trade negotiations. She will also know the king’s foibles, likes, and dislikes. And she does love you very much, despite the pain she has caused you. So, you see, you have a wealth of folk to draw upon.”

I thought about all Tethrandil had said in his quiet, calm voice. I was surprised to feel a little better. I straightened, and put one hand over my heart to offer my friend a bow. “You’ve done me a great kindness, Tethrandil. I’m grateful. And I’d like to ask you if you’d be my protocol advisor. I warn you, it’ll be a thankless job, because I haven’t got the first idea about anything.”

He returned my bow, chuckling. “I won’t have anything to unteach you, then, which is a gift. I accept. Now, I have said enough. I will leave you to your thinking.”

“Before you go...”

“Yes?”

“What was an ambassador supposed to do when the Orcs attacked? Just so I know for next time?”

He didn’t laugh or make a joke. “Assess the threat, and bring to bear what weapons you can. As you did.”

“Then... what was that part about the middle? And what is an... elite?”

“In a siege, the leaders are protected in the center. Elite is probably a word specific to the Woodland Realm, meaning the essential folk – Lord Elrond, Mithrandir, and you, in this case. Now, this was not a siege, and as is true for any fight so quickly come upon us, the middle was not obvious. Both Lord Elrond and Mithrandir reacted as you did, and were on the line as much as you. I think what you heard was Tauriel’s worry, nothing more.”

I mustered a smile. “Don’t tell her that Míriel thought the whole thing was a lark.”

He smiled in return as he turned his horse around. “You did not, and that is the important thing.”

I watched him pace away. I wasn’t used to getting solace after I’d been kicked, so I was grateful for his kindness. Around me, the warriors were remounting and Beorn, no longer a bear, appeared beside Lord Elrond. The company was reorganizing itself to resume our travels, so I looked down at Míriel. She smiled, drawing the same expression from me. I lifted her up to rub noses with her.

“Back in the basket, little jewel,” I murmured, kissing her hand as it patted my cheek. “You’re safe. Just don’t tell your _Maamr_ how much you liked being in an Orc fight.”

I lifted her over my head and settled her in the basket, quick to get my hair out of the way before she decided to grab it. Then I nudged Trellennan forward with the rest of our company. I stayed where I was relative to the rest of my companions, because despite Tethrandil’s encouragement, I still didn’t know where my place was. I certainly didn’t belong with Gandalf and Lord Elrond, or Beorn. I guessed I didn’t belong with the guardsmen, either. That left the Orc Spawn, but I needed more time before I tried to find my way into their midst again...

That wasn’t exactly true. I’d have no problem with Tethrandil, or Rhiannel, or Giriel. The one I didn’t know how to face was Tauriel, because I had frightened and disappointed her so badly, and likely she didn’t want anything to do with me. That would take me a while to sort out.

Fortunately, I had time. We set a fast pace to quickly leave the high grass and dead Orcs behind, and soon came out onto the flat land I remembered from two years ago. We were further south of the Carrock where Gandalf’s friends, the huge eagles, had deposited Uncle Thorin’s company after rescuing us from Azog. We’d gotten our first sight of the Lonely Mountain from there, and we’d laughably thought the worst of our trip was over. I knew better, but I didn’t worry about the rigors to come yet. For now, I concentrated on keeping Trellennan at a steady pace, and keeping an even seat so as not to jostle Míriel too much. I focused on the scenery, and tried not to think about Tauriel’s fury and how badly it had hurt.

We paused briefly for luncheon and to rest the horses. Míriel was eating soft food now, and so didn’t have to rely on Tauriel for all of her nourishment. I didn’t know whether Tauriel was ready to look at me, so I waited until most everyone had taken rations before I went for mine. I got the softest bits of fruits and bread and cheese, because they were things I could mash up for Míriel. I retreated to Trellennan’s side, and sat down to let Míriel out of her basket. She was happy to be out, and liked the bits of soft peach I bit off for her. She liked the bread, too, despite how tiny the crumbs were that I gave her. The cheese was less successful, for it was hard journey cheese, and sharp in taste. She made a face, so after the second crumb got the same grimace from her, I ate the rest of it and went back to the peaches for her. She ate almost half of the fruit, and nearly as much of the bread. She was probably thirsty, so I fished the small cup I kept in Trellennan’s saddlebags, filled it from my water bottle, and cradled Míriel in my lap.

“Here, try a sip, little jewel,” I murmured, holding the cup to her lips. A little dribbled down her chin, but she licked her lips and hummed, so I tipped the cup for her again. It was a slow process, but she put her hands on the rim and gummed it, getting small sips along the way. From the sound of it, she thought this was a fun game, and she got a fair amount of the water inside her, even if much more went down her top.

Now came the part I dreaded. Míriel needed a dry top as well as a clean diaper. I had the diaper, but not the top, and I’d have to find the bag of Míriel’s things on the packhorse to get one. That meant venturing near people, and one in particular. I stowed my cup and water bottle, ate the remains of the food, and tidied Míriel, changing her diaper and wiping the crumbs from her face. But then there was no avoiding the trip to the packhorse. I looked around, gathered up Míriel and Trellennan’s reins, and skirted the groups of Elves until I reached the packhorses. There was Míriel’s bag. I took three or four of her tops and some extra diapers, and a couple of her toys, then went back to my exile. At least now I could keep my bairn happy and looked after until I figured out what to do about disappointing Tauriel so badly...

I winced. Even thinking her name hurt. I didn’t think I could bear to speak it.

 

* * *

 

Kíli kept to himself all morning, and even at luncheon. At first I thought he wouldn’t eat, and had just steeled myself to fetch Míriel from him when he headed silently to the baskets of food and took his share. He retreated back to Trellennan, and settled Míriel beside him to play. But when she tired of rolling around, he gathered her in his lap, and held tiny crumbs of fruit and bread out to her. Míriel was too small to eat such things...

“What else do you expect him to do?” Giriel muttered.

“What?” I asked.

“You just said Míriel can’t eat solid food, but clearly she does. Even if she didn’t, what else would you expect Kíli to do? Hand her to you? You insulted him as a father and a warrior, so he already feels he cannot do anything on his own. He’s trying to remind himself that he can.”

“Giriel, you do not help,” Rhiannel put a hand on the arm of his _a’maelamin_. “Leave it alone.”

“Not until I ask Tauriel what she expected Kíli to do when the Orcs attacked. Ask them very politely to hold their attack until he put the babe safely away? In a tree, perhaps? Oh, there are no trees here. So perhaps under a rock. Oh, Míriel would not have fared well there. Or maybe Kíli should have asked the Orcs to leave off because there was no safer place for the babe other than on her father’s back. Would you have preferred him to do any of those?”

“And would you prefer Tauriel to ask you how your harrying helps her now?” Rhiannel said sharply. I had never heard our diplomatic Orc Spawn speak so harshly. “You are guilty of the same harshness you accuse her of, and should reflect how folk can hurt each other speaking thus.”

Giriel made a visible effort to bite back any more words. She shut her eyes, and forced herself to take a deep breath. “I am sorry, Tauriel. And I apologize to you, too, Rhiannel. I am so angry because I surely made Kíli feel awful this morning when I did his hair and scrubbed his face as if he were a child. He didn’t complain, and he made jokes about it, but inside I wager he felt humiliated. Then you lashed out at him, Tauriel. Neither of us acted any better than those Orcs that beat him did. Worse, because we're supposed to be his friends, to care about him. I hate that I made him feel like that. I hate it.”

Giriel got up and took herself off, stomping the ground as if that would dissipate her upset. I forced myself to take another bite of my bread, though it was as dry as sand in my mouth and I had to choke it down. Across the way, Kíli patiently fed bits of fruit to Míriel, and even coaxed her to sip water from a cup. Míriel thought it was a fun game to get so wet, but Kíli saw to that, too, fetching her some dry clothes from the baggage line. He was gentle with our daughter, and held her as if she were his greatest treasure. Still, I couldn’t bear how he moved like a shadow, without his usual exuberance.

As Giriel had said, what else did I expect?

We got underway again soon enough, resuming our rapid pace over the land. We were trying to make it all the way to Beorn’s home today, to avoid any more Orc attacks, and it was almost forty miles from last night’s campsite. Lord Elrond and Gandalf rode abreast and near the front of our company with Lindir close behind, setting the rapid pace; I was not surprised that Beorn kept untiring pace with them. I took my turn on the perimeter with the rest of the Orc Spawn, ashamed when Kíli kept to the middle, alone, all afternoon.

Again, what else did I expect?

Near sunset, we came to the thick thorn hedge Kíli had told me of that surrounded Beorn’s home, stables, and kitchen gardens. Beorn opened the huge wooden gate that marked the entrance, and we streamed through, glad to be at the end of the day’s journey. The giant directed us where we could set up our tents beyond the beds of vegetables, and where our horses could graze. I took one of the packhorses in tow that bore our baggage, and helped Rhiannel unload it beside the spot where we’d pitch our tent, then let one of the guardsmen lead the horse away. Tethrandil came to stand at my shoulder as I watched Kíli, still atop Trellennan, pace slowly towards the picket line.

“He has cared for Míriel well all day,” Tethrandil murmured.

I nodded, swallowing hard.

“It would hearten him if you said so.”

I looked down at my boots.

“Tauriel, please do not make him ask anyone for help. I understand your upset, but you shamed him before the company, and he is convinced he cannot do anything to anyone’s satisfaction. He does not know what kind of reception he will get if he approaches us. Forcing him to ask for help will further demoralize him. He has nothing to apologize for, and it would be kind to tell him so.”

I forced myself to swallow. I forced myself to nod. Then I forced myself after Kíli.

By the time I reached the picket line, Kíli had handed Trellennan off to the guard, and he’d carried Míriel to the edge of the gardens to look across to the mountains far beyond Beorn’s lands. He had Míriel on his shoulder, rubbing her back as she surveyed the world around her. The baggage he’d carried on Trellennan was at his feet.

“Can I – would you like me to help carry your baggage to the tent?” I asked awkwardly.

Kíli didn’t turn around. He’d stiffened at the sound of my voice. “I have it in hand,” he said quietly. “Though I expect you’ll want to feed Míriel. She had a lot of fruit and bread and water at luncheon, and she’s clean and dry.”

He kissed Míriel’s cheek, and held her out to me, not meeting my eyes. When I took her, I said, “I saw how well you tended her at luncheon. She liked the fruit quite a lot.”

He nodded, but it was a lifeless gesture. He glanced up, but when he met my gaze there was nothing of Kíli in his eyes. The last time he’d looked so forlorn was on the banks of the ruined Esgaroth, when he’d been convinced that I was about to leave him for Legolas. My throat closed, and I couldn’t force myself to say anything.

“I am sorry I disappointed you so,” he whispered huskily. “I am. I did what I thought was right to protect Míriel, that’s all. It was no lark.”

He gathered up his baggage and headed away, not towards our tent. “Kíli, stop. Please stop.”

He held still, but his body was tight and closed to me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, and held Míriel against my chest. “I am so sorry for what I said to you, Kíli. I was wrong to shout at you as I did in front of everyone, too, when you’d done the right thing to protect Míriel and the rest of us.”

He looked out at the dimming sun, then down at his feet. “I don’t know what the right thing to do about anything is.” His hands gestured helplessly, then fell to his sides. “I don’t.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way. You are not a disappointment.”

“If I’m not, then why did you say those things?” His voice wasn’t accusative, but lost, trying to understand.

“Because I heard Míriel call out after the Orc attack, and I realized that she could have fallen out of the basket, or gotten shot or stabbed, and I... I just... everything that could have happened scared me. Even though none of those things happened, they still scared me.”

He nodded. “I didn’t want to put her in harm’s way. If I’d had any other choice, I would have made it. But Orcs don’t fight fairly, and so I had to fight with Míriel in her basket. I would have died before letting anything happen to her.”

“I know you would have – you would never do otherwise. I know that none of the things I feared happened because you didn’t let them happen. I was wrong to say what I said.”

He finally looked around at me. It was a terrible look, completely demoralized. “Do you still love me? I’ll understand if you don’t.”

Breath failed me, so shocking was Kíli’s question. Had I undermined him that badly, in the space of just a few seconds? Not alone, I realized. Giriel had been right that our fussing over Kíli had been demoralizing. Before that, so many other people had poked and pushed and prodded Kíli, and he’d done his best to do what so many had asked of him without complaint. How ironic that one of the few people who had offered him more support was Lindir, whom so many thought cared for little other than his papers. I had undone what support I’d offered by letting things that hadn’t happened goad me into a humiliating tongue-lashing. Would he ever trust me again?

I went to him, kneeled, put Míriel beside us, and took his hands. “I love you very much, _a’maelamin_ , and I am so, so sorry that I hurt you so badly. You are my joy, and I cannot imagine life without you. It would be unbearable.”

He ventured the tiniest, most tentative smile. “That’s what it would be for me to be without you, too.”

“Then we won’t. Let us take our babe and our baggage and go home.”

He squeezed my hands. “All right.”

He took up his baggage, and I captured Míriel as she energetically crawled towards one of Beorn’s garden beds. We walked back in the darkness, a little more at peace.

 

* * *

 

_Gandalf sent a smoke ring out into the night. “Ah. We have come to resolution.”_

_Lord Elrond glanced at the pair of Dwarf and Elf as they paced slowly towards the rising Orc Spawn tent, and handed the wizard a glass of wine. “And did you have a hand in that resolution?”_

_Gandalf rumbled negatively. “Give Tethrandil credit for that.”_

_“No surprise. I was not surprised to see him throw in with the Orc Spawn, either.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“He is a most iconoclastic Elf. He was my chief negotiator of trade for nearly a millennium, and can converse most authoritatively about each culture that supplies Imladris with its goods. He decided one day that he was tired about reading about such places, and so took himself into the guard because he decided to see them for himself.”_

_Gandalf hummed. “Flexible, then. And knowledgeable. He will help Kíli quite a lot.”_

_“I hope so. Today dealt our young Dwarf a cruel blow. He is not ready to deal with Thranduil.”_

_Gandalf’s snort was most undignified for a wizard. “Can anyone truly be ready to deal with Thranduil?”_

_Lord Elrond exhaled before he sipped his wine. “We do the Woodland king a disservice to speak of him in such disgruntled tones.”_

_“I expect he will do us the disservice of speaking in the same disgruntled tones, but I shall be pleased if he proves me wrong.”_

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Tauriel has apologized, but Kili is still very confused. So he takes the biggest risk of his life -- instead of keeping his mouth shut like any good lad, he decides he should.... talk about it. After all, that's what Fili told him maids liked to do when they were upset...
> 
> Along the way, Kili gains a few advisors, we have supper in Beorn's wonderful house, and Miri discovers a new trick or two. And the chess set the Dwarves carved for Beorn is put to good use.
> 
> So pull up a stool, and get ready for a scrumptious supper, as well as a little angst :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> otorno nin = my brother  
> osellë nin = my sister  
> dahaut = shit  
> skator = hell

Despite Tauriel’s apology, I tensed when we drew near to the Orc Spawn as they prepared to set up our tent. I didn’t know what kind of reception I’d get, so I squared my shoulders, schooled my expression into something neutral, and kept both eyes open for whatever might come at me –

_What are you doing, Kili? These are your friends, not a lot of garrison thugs who might take it into their heads to round on the ugly Dwarf. These are your friends. Your friends –_

Giriel marched towards me. Her expression was angry, and despite myself I stopped. It was unlikely that even Giriel would take a swing at me, but she’d surely give me what for, the way Tauriel had this morning. I braced myself – whatever she said, I would not curse, or swing at her, or turn tail and slink off to lick my wounds –

“I owe you a deep apology, Kíli. I was a _kurvanog lulgijakone_ for harassing you this morning about your hair and the porridge, and you should have slapped me for it. I don’t know how you put up with all of the _dahaut_ everyone’s dumped on you. I will not be so disrespectful again, _otorno nin_.”

I blinked. Giriel was a constant surprise. “Um... I thank you, _osellë nin_. I know you only tried to help. I... need a lot of help, actually. I’m not very good at being an ambassador yet.”

Rhiannel, Lindir, and Tethrandil drew up behind Giriel. “I couldn’t do it,” Giriel said frankly. “I don’t have the patience.”

Everyone chuckled at Giriel’s blunt assessment, even me. “I don’t know whether I do or not.”

“You made a good treaty with Beorn,” Lindir said stoutly. “A very good one.”

I touched my hand to my heart and nodded, thanking Lindir for his encouragement. Beside him stood Tethrandil, smiling dryly. “Tethrandil told me something important this morning. He said that an ambassador has advisors to help him from making a fool out of himself, and the Valar know I need help with that. Tethrandil’s agreed to help me with protocol and such. I could use someone to help me sort through all the _dahaut_ , Giriel. Someone to help me be diplomatic, Rhiannel. Someone to help me be organized and write things as well as you do, Lindir. And someone to tell me everything about the Woodland Realm so I have a chance to get King Thranduil to agree to anything, Tauriel. I’m not asking any of you to do it for me, just to help me stay on the right path. I’d be most grateful if you’d consider it.”

“Advisor for Clearing _Dahaut_ ,” Giriel said, grinning. “I like it. I’m in.”

“As am I,” Lindir said almost as fast. He looked as delighted as if I’d given him a present, which surprised me. “You’ve been a good friend, and if I can help, I want to.”

“You can be Advisor on Treaties,” Giriel said.

“What, not Advisor of All That Cursed Paper and Parchment?” Lindir shot back.

“Oh, very good!” Giriel laughed. “We’re rubbing off on you, Lindir! Good riposte!”

“Diplomatic Advisor I shall be,” Rhiannel bowed, also grinning.

“And I am honored to advise on the Woodland Realm, and anything else you need,” Tauriel said almost shyly.

“Valar, you haven’t named the most important one, Kíli – Míriel! She’s the Advisor of Unfair Advantage.” Giriel tickled our bairn under her chin. “Anytime someone won’t cooperate, we’ll trot her out, and she’ll overwhelm them with her sweetness and a burble or two. Won’t you, Miri?”

“Ga,” Míriel snickered.

“See, she already knows her role!” Giriel laughed. “Now that we are all properly titled, I want to make my first ambassadorial recommendation – that we put up the tent, or we shall have no place to rest tonight!”

She stuck out her hand, and we all put ours out with hers. “Come on, Lindir; you, too,” Giriel said, pulling Lindir’s hand to join ours. “ _Comys thoyn_ , Orc Spawn!”

“ _Comys thoyn_ ,” we all echoed, even Lindir, and then set about the tent.

Lindir edged close to me as we unfolded the tent silk. “Kíli, what did we all just say? _Comys thoyn_?”

I grinned. “It’s our motto. Filthy, as all good Dwarvish epithets are. The polite translation is to kick ass, but in truth it’s quite a bit nastier than kicking.”

When Lindir’s eyes grew round, I grinned and nudged him. “Admit it,” I said lowly. “It feels good to get out of line now and again, doesn’t it?”

Lindir didn’t look convinced.

 

* * *

 

It was a relief to move freely again. I’d been tense all day, riding with only Míriel’s light murmurings to remind me that I was not alone. Now, with the reassurances of my friends to warm me, tight muscles eased, and my chest didn’t feel so constricted. Tauriel’s apology had helped, too, though I was still unsettled on her account. I’d had no experience with maids before Tauriel, not even a flirtation; the rare maid who’d bothered to look at me had generally done so only to get to Fíli, who had been the crown prince as well as ridiculously handsome. When I’d met Tauriel, I’d gone from completely inexperienced to irrevocably bonded in less than two weeks. This was the first fight I’d ever had with my wife, and it had been awful. I didn’t know anything about fighting with a maid. Yes, she’d apologized, but what if she’d done it only because she felt sorry for me?

I wished I had someone to ask who knew more about maids than I did, but the only Elf in the company who did was Lord Elrond, and I certainly wasn’t going to ask him. Talk about embarrassing!

I decided the best thing to do was nothing, until I figured out whether Tauriel had apologized out of pity, or love.

I let things lie while we put up our tent, built our hearth, and arranged our baggage. Lindir ducked out to see if Lord Elrond needed anything, and soon returned with welcome news – we would share supper around Beorn’s table. Even my apprehension about Tauriel didn’t dim my enthusiasm for that. Tauriel suckled Míriel and got her a new diaper while I unpacked our blankets and other things, and helped Rhiannel and Tethrandil with the hearth. Giriel brought in a load of dry wood for the hearth fire we’d light later, and a bucket of clean water for tea as well as washing. It felt good to shed mail and most of our weapons, and splash a bit of water on our faces before we headed to Beorn’s house.

It was full dark now, but we had no trouble finding our way. The huge house and stable was lit within with candles and firelight, and the windows glimmered as the golden light spilled out onto the grass. Many of the company were already inside, and at the table closest to the stables sat Lord Elrond and Beorn, playing chess with the pieces I’d given the giant. That made me feel good; if I ever saw Troli again, I’d tell him of the scene, how Beorn was in his big carved chair and Lord Elrond sat cross-legged opposite him atop a wide stool, and how the bee pawns seemed to flutter in the rippling candlelight. Gandalf sat nearby, watching the game and smoking his pipe. Many of the Elves already sat around the huge table, enjoying Beorn’s excellent food. I smiled to see the tall Elves look as small as children sitting around such an immense table, for while they were a foot taller than I was, they were still two feet shorter than Beorn. Maybe they’d gain a sense of how I felt around so many tall folk.

The last time I’d been here, I’d been with a lot of rowdy Dwarves, but even they had been subdued in this house. The Elves were quieter than Dwarves by far, but they were no less touched by the splendor around them, and spoke in soft, hushed voices. Beorn’s house was not fancy – walls of grey stone, flagged floor, and massive wooden beams – and its scale, while impressive, wasn’t so colossal that it overwhelmed. But there was something reverent about it, as if time had stopped here when the light of the world had been at its most golden and its quiet had been most profound. I felt comforted to be here again.

Giriel and Rhiannel headed right to the table, but Lindir, Tethrandil, and Tauriel wanted to look around before they ate, so we meandered through the stables to look at the immense cows and sheep, smell the warm hay, and spot the drowsing fowl who perched above our heads in the rafters. Lindir marveled at the carvings that appeared seemingly at random throughout the house, as if Beorn had had an idle moment one rainy day and had decided to etch a pattern of swirls here, or a profile of a bear there, or a nest of thrushes above the window. There were many carvings of bears, naturally, especially across the back of Beorn’s great chair, but he’d shown his interest in many other creatures as well. A lintel revealed an otter on one end, and a fox on the other. A wealth of plants and flowers detailed a carved panel between two windows. A gnarled tree trunk curled from the floor up a wall, and branched across the ceiling into leaves, populated with birds’ nests and butterflies.

“This is all so beautiful,” Tauriel breathed, holding Míriel up to touch the head of a carved rabbit on the wall. “I can’t wait to see it all in full daylight, too.”

“It’ll look like it’s all carved out of honey wood,” I whispered back. “Less mystical, but just as beautiful.”

She and I drifted to the big table, and found space to sit together. We sat Míriel on the table itself so she could see what went on around her, and I reached for the bowl of greens to slide it to Tauriel.

“Would you like milk, or water?” I asked her.

“Milk, please.”

I took one of Beorn’s huge tankards, stood up on my stool to heft the even huger pitcher full of rich milk, and carefully poured our tankard less than half full. Even that would be more than the two of us would likely drink, but I wanted to see if Míriel liked it, too, so I had my saddle cup in my pocket for her. There were no plates, so as platters passed by, we took a share of whatever appealed to us. Bread came by – I was quick to take a lot of the rustic seed bread I’d loved so much on my first visit – then butter, and fresh cheese that was as soft as the butter. Jam in a huge crock sat nearby, as did a plate with honey in its comb, glistening like a jewel in the candlelight. Peaches, berries, and grapes filled bowls, and many kinds of vegetables filled others. I took a morsel of soft bread, smeared a little honey on it, and held it out to Míriel.

“Try this, Miri. It’s very good. Mmm.”

“Mmm,” Míriel said in reply, agreeing with me. She smacked her lips as if it were the best thing she’d ever tasted. It might be; Bilbo had certainly thought so when I’d been here with him. She liked plum jam, too, and apricots, and the soft cheese. I dipped my saddle cup in the milk for her, and she slurped that down, too. I glanced at Tauriel, wondering if she’d tell me to stop feeding our bairn, but she took a bit of the cheese and offered it to Míriel, who reached for it gladly.

“I think she’s got my appetite,” I offered.

“And your enthusiasm to try new things,” Tauriel replied. “I’m glad. Before long, she’ll need more to eat than I can provide. If she likes to try new foods, then she’ll find many things to keep her from being hungry.”

“That’s what you think,” I said without thinking, then hesitated. I flicked a glance at Tauriel, hoping that she didn’t think I was arguing with her. She seemed at ease, but I was quick to add, “Um, I just mean that _Maamr_ was hard pressed to keep my belly filled, especially the years where I grew so fast. It took a long time before I filled out. I looked like a five-foot bean pod until my thirties, no matter how much I ate.”

“Did you ever have to go without?”

I shook my head. “The table didn’t have fancies on it, but we had enough. You?”

Tauriel mirrored my shake of the head. “The Eldar don’t eat as much as Dwarves, of course, but my parents provided well, and of course the king did.” She suddenly smiled. “I remember many times when Legolas brought pastries from some reception or another. The fancies you mentioned. I used to stuff myself full of honeyed seed cakes in a most undignified fashion when no one was looking. It was one of the few good parts of living in the king’s apartments.”

I tensed again, because I didn’t know whether Tauriel was just making a comment about food, or if she was telling me that she was from a more privileged life than I was. I sighed – a single fight, and I was left not knowing what to do or say about anything! Bilbo had told me about some of his distant relations, the Sack-Baggins, or some such name, who had perfected the art of snobbery by subtle putdowns. Tauriel had never done that before, but was she doing it now? Oh, Valar, I wished Fíli were here to explain all this to me....

“I liked those honey cakes that Giriel brought to our wedding,” I ventured.

“They were my favorite,” Tauriel agreed, smiling as she remembered them. I relaxed a little. “Even though they weren’t quite the same as Legolas’s honeyed seed cakes.”

I tensed again. Legolas again – King Thranduil’s son, the handsome, blond Elf who’d had feelings for Tauriel before me. Did her mention of him mean anything beyond the obvious? Did she regret not going with him when he’d spoken to her at Laketown? Did she –

_Oh, Valar, Kíli! You tie yourself up into the worst knots! Just stop thinking. Stop worrying. Enjoy your supper, and Beorn’s wonderful house, and let the rest alone. You don’t have the first clue as to what to do about anything right now, so don’t do anything. Just sit._

_But that’s the problem – I don’t know anything now! A smith, a warrior, a drover, a caravan guard – those I understand. Being an ambassador, a husband... clearly I don’t understand. I want to. I need to. But after today... I don’t know how._

I swallowed my upset to focus on Míriel. That was something I knew how to do, despite what Tauriel had said this morning. We had finished eating, so we left the table to make room for others, and we found a spot at the edge of the stable in the straw where we would be out of the way of folk crossing to and fro. I brought out Troli’s doll to dance it for her, and was heartened when she giggled and reached for it. I made the doll’s hand wave, then touch Miri’s nose, which got an emphatic smile from her each time. I danced the doll towards Tauriel, who made funny faces at our babe. When Míriel tired of merely sitting to play, she crawled around and on top of us, patting the straw, and rolling around in it with the utmost satisfaction. She looked very funny wrestling with her doll, with wisps of pale yellow straw sticking to her dark curls. Her hair was three inches long now, wavy like mine, and the color of dark cherries, a wonderful combination of my black hair and Tauriel’s red. Her eyes had finally changed from birth blue to dappled hazel, again combining my brown with Tauriel’s green. She liked swinging by her arms, kicking away with great enthusiasm. I lifted her up, swung her gently back and forth, then set her down on her bottom. She lifted her arms up again, crowing for more, so I took one hand, Tauriel took the other, and up she went.

“Let’s see if she’ll try to stand,” Tauriel said suddenly.

I brightened. “All right. Gently down, then, little jewel. Can you push with your feet?”

We got her feet onto the ground. She wore some of the tiny socks Tauriel had gotten for her, so the straw didn’t scratch her feet as she touched them down. She kicked again, but we let her bounce up and down a bit before we tried to put her down. Míriel, however, would have none of it. She liked this new sensation, and wouldn’t drop to her bottom.

“Here, you take her hands, and I’ll hold her around her waist,” I offered, and between the two of us, we kept Míriel steady as she surveyed the world from this new height. She thought this was wonderful! I couldn’t resist a delighted grin at Míriel’s new accomplishment. “Look at you, Miri! You’re standing. Tauriel, our bairn is standing! It’s amazing!”

“Míriel, I’m so proud of you,” Tauriel said softly, smiling in delight. “You are eating new food, and crawling, and now you are learning to stand. You are the best of babes!”

She brushed a kiss on the top of Míriel’s head, a gesture greeted with our daughter’s complacent, “Ma.”

I snickered. “She agrees with you.”

Tauriel leaned over a bit farther to brush a kiss on my cheek. “She also agrees with me that you are the best of fathers.”

Startled, I caught her eyes. Tauriel’s expression was such a mixture of things that I tensed again.

“You’re... not just saying that because you feel sorry for an ugly Dwarf... are you?”

She looked wounded. “I have hurt you so much, Kíli and I am so sorry. I love you very much, and you are not ugly. I hope you can forgive me. I... treasure you and all we have too much, perhaps. I was frightened, and said things in fear that I shouldn’t have. If I had had Míriel, instead of you, I would have done just as you did.”

“So... I did the right thing?”

She nodded. “You did the right thing.”

“And... you didn’t talk about Legolas because you... you were sorry you didn’t choose him?”

Tauriel looked startled. “Legolas?”

“The honeyed seed cakes that he brought you.”

Her face cleared. “Oh, he never brought them to me the way you think. It was if he were an uncle who was much older than I was, that’s all. In truth, he liked the orange syrup cakes, and it would have rude for him to bring his favorites without bringing some of mine and his father’s.”

“Which ones does the king like?”

“Rosewater biscuits,” she replied without thinking. “Delicate flavor, very crunchy.”

I nodded. “So... you don’t wish you’d gone with the prince?”

She looked startled again. “I did go with the prince. I went with you.” She looked at me with a frown. “Are you worried about Legolas?”

I winced. I should just hold my tongue so as not to dig myself in deeper trouble. That’s what lads did – we kept our mouths closed. But Fíli had told me how maids liked to talk when they were upset. Oh, Valar, that was a path straight to my doom, given how ignorant I was. But I needed to know some things, or I’d eat myself alive with uncertainty, with worry. I looked around, and while no one was close enough to hear me, I didn’t need an audience when I jumped off this cliff and landed with a splat at the bottom. “Can we walk outside? Would you mind?”

“Of course not. We can sit in the garden if you’d like.”

I led the way out, and we ventured under the stars to a quiet spot between a bed of flowers and another of squash plants with enormous leaves. The grass was dry, so we settled Míriel and Troli’s doll between us.

“What about Legolas troubles you?" Tauriel’s voice whispered through the dark.

I swallowed. _Oh, Fíli, wherever you are, wish me luck!_ “I’m not... it’s just... oh, Valar, T-T-Tauriel. I’m so confused. I don’t care about Legolas, not really; I just don’t know where I am with anything anymore, no matter how hard I’ve tried to learn. Everything everyone told me about making an agreement didn’t help make the agreement with Beorn, which happened so fast, not that I wasn’t glad about it, but it made me even more confused, because I’m not sure how I did it. Still, I hung on because I knew how to be a smith and a warrior and a father, and I had your regard. Those are my four anchors. Then... after the battle, when you told me I didn’t know how to fight or take care of Míriel, I lost two of my anchors. You were so angry, too, so I’d lost your regard, which is my biggest anchor. All I have left is smithing, which thankfully you don’t know anything about, or I’d be lost completely. So maybe you wish you’d gone with Legolas because he knows what he’s doing, and who he is, and I don’t.”

Tauriel looked down at her lap. I shut my eyes because I didn’t want to see disgust on her face, or laughter. But that was cowardly, and if I didn’t know what I was, I knew I wasn’t a coward, so I opened my eyes to see tears well in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I gulped, taking her shoulders in my hands. “I’m not trying to hurt you! Oh, _skator,_ Tauriel, I just... I don’t know anything about maids! You’re the only one I’ve ever known at all, and I love you so much that it kills me to disappoint you, and I just wanted to explain because Fíli told me that maids like to talk about such things, but now I’m hurting you, and I’m sorry! I wish I could... oh, _dahaut_! I’m just making everything worse.”

“You’re _not_ making anything worse, Kíli.” Tauriel put her hands on my arms. “This is my fault. Mine, Kíli, not yours. You have nothing to apologize for. I was afraid, and I said terrible things that hurt you more than I ever imagined, and made you doubt yourself. If I could unsay them, I would, a dozen times over. I should have spent my words on the Orcs who put Míriel in danger, not you who protected her. You are a consummate warrior, and a loving, caring father, and my _a’maelamin,_ the only one in my heart.” She turned her left wrist up to me. “Do you think I would have put our runes here if I had had any doubt of those things? What can I say to convince you of that?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, and ventured to wipe the tear away that had spilled down Tauriel’s cheek. “Can you forgive me for making you cry? I hate to make you cry.”

“I’m ashamed of myself because I hurt you, Kíli. You are the last one I ever want to hurt. I am not perfect, and I made a horrible mistake to say what I did.”

“But you _are_ perfect, at least I think you are. I’ve thought so since I met you. I never expected someone as perfect as you to love me.”

“I am _not_ perfect, Kíli! Look at the mess I’ve made! No one who is perfect makes a mess like this one. Unless you want to say that I created the perfect mess, but this one is much too messy a mess to be perfect in any fashion...”

Tauriel looked away, as if that would hide the tears spilling down her cheeks, despite her brave attempt at self-deprecation. I wiped more of them away with my fingers.

“I... think I’ve been unfair to you, then. For thinking you’re perfect, yes? No one is perfect all the time, and I shouldn’t expect it of you any more than you should expect it of me. So... maybe we can forgive each other for everything, because neither of us is perfect?”

Tauriel nodded. “I can.”

I ventured a smile that actually felt like one. “I can, too.”

“You will always have my heart, Kíli. Don’t doubt that. It is my greatest treasure to be your _amrâlimê_.”

“I’ll remember, _a’maelamin_. But remind me now and again, just to make sure I don’t forget. As I’ll remind you of how much I love you.”

“I will.”

I felt like a huge weight had lifted off my shoulders. “It’s good to have my anchor back. Starting tomorrow, I have a lot of learning to do.”

“You will sort it all out, _a’maelamin_.” Tauriel stroked my hair, which I savored like the gift it was. “I have no doubt.”

“I hope so. Thank the Valar for the Orc Spawn. Um, Tauriel?”

“Yes, Kíli?”

“Where is Míriel?”

We both looked around. “Oh, Valar!” Tauriel gasped, when we didn’t see her, and made to fling herself to her feet, but I had spotted the squash leaves trembling behind Tauriel.

“No, it’s all right, Tauriel. Look behind you. Under the squash.”

She twisted around, relaxing when one tiny foot appeared from under the leaves. “Oh, Valar,” Tauriel breathed again, but this time, she smiled. “My mother used to tell me a story when I was small about a babe who appeared one day from under a cabbage plant. Today, I learn that the plant is a squash instead.”

I lifted up the leaf to reveal Míriel with both hands full of dirt, her top well smeared, and signs that she’d discovered what dirt tasted like. I snickered as I gathered her up.

“Oh, Míriel!” Tauriel sighed, trying to brush her off. “It’s no use trying to brush it off. You need a bath.”

“Back to the tent, then,” I stood, our babe in one arm so I could offer Tauriel the other. She took it, her skin cool against mine as we walked back to the tent. I felt much better.

_Thank you, Fíli. You were the best of brothers, and you still are._


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. At long last, King Thranduil is in the house, if only briefly. He'll take center stage before long, though... but will he have to share it with someone else?
> 
> Along the way, Miriel has a few things to say about disordered firewood, Kili chops wood, and Beorn offers his considered opinion. The Orc Spawn hold their first lesson for Kili, only to find Lord Elrond in attendance, too. And is Gandalf merely sitting back and taking it all in? Of course not. He's doing what all good wizards do -- plotting.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the buildup :-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to read Kili's firsthand account of how he met King Thranduil, see Part 1 of this series, "The Gift of Sunlight." Tauriel's account of her conversations is in Part 2, "Ancalina Hendi."

_The reply came long after Thranduil had stopped expecting it. Almost two years, in fact. How strange; as long as his life had been before now, and as long as it would likely be after, a mere two years had weighed on him like the heaviest of chains. He told the doorkeeper to bring the messenger immediately, even though he was at table. In fact, he didn’t even wait for the messenger to be shown in before he was out of his chair and sweeping through his apartments to meet the Elf in the antechamber._

_“You have it?” Thranduil asked immediately, and the messenger nodded, holding out the parchment._

_“I thank you.”_

_The king barely heard the doorkeeper usher the messenger out as he broke the wax seal impressed with the familiar – and sorely missed – crest. The writing was brief, terse in contrast to the lengthy and heated discord that had precipitated this estrangement. But it was also polite and affectionate, gracefully thanking Thranduil for his accommodation and wishing him well. The last line held everything the king needed to read._

_His son was coming home._

 

* * *

 

Kili and I shared a few quiet moments by our hearth in the Orc Spawn tent, bathing Míriel after her escapade among the squash blossoms. It heartened me as Kíli relaxed, shedding the tightness and apprehension he’d suffered as our reconciliation sank in for both of us. As we washed our bairn clean and found her fresh clothing, I savored the touch of his hand as it brushed mine, his hair as it wisped against my cheek. He was exhausted, mostly because of the disquiet that had plagued him all day, rather than the brief Orc fight or our ensuing ride to reach Beorn’s home. Míriel, however, was still delighted to romp and play with her toys. Kili stifled yawns and made no move for his blankets, I think more to savor the restored harmony between us than to enjoy Míriel’s antics. His eyes met mine every few seconds, soft and warm. But eventually he couldn’t hide his yawns.

“You have struggled to stay awake for the past hour,” I said.

He bounced Míriel again. “The bairn is still ready to play with us,” he pointed out.

“She can play just as happily outside under the moon as in here, _a’maelamin_ , which is what I will let her do once you are asleep. So lie down and restore yourself. You need a good night’s sleep so you will be ready for tomorrow.”

The next yawn almost split his jaws, drawing us both to chuckle. He slid close to clasp my shoulders, and kiss me thoroughly. “This is to remind you that I love you. It’s all I can manage tonight, but consider it an offer of more tomorrow. I know this lovely little nook out in Beorn’s flower fields that I’d love to persuade you to visit with me, if we can ask someone to watch Miri for an hour or two.”

I kissed him back slowly. “I would like that very much. I have never coupled in a field of flowers, so let us hope that it does not rain.”

His familiar irrepressible grin appeared, and he stroked my cheek. “It might be fun if it does rain. Very... slippery.”

His voice lingered so on that last word that my kiss was neither slow nor restrained, and my fingers traced up his thigh. “Are you sure you cannot manage to stay awake a little longer?”

Kíli flushed with heat from head to toe, and his breath caught. “I can – oh, and oh, Míriel is crawling towards the hearth, _amrâlimê_ –” His eyes grew wide. “Quick, get her before she reaches the kindling –”

I twisted around, scrambling to grab Míriel, who eagerly reached for one of the sticks. The babe managed to tumble only a few small branches out of the pile, but the unexpected clatter did not please her. She whimpered in offense, batting at the nearest offending stick as I swept her into my arms.

“Oh, Míriel, sometimes you move faster towards trouble than your parents like,” I sighed, drawing Kíli’s rueful chuckle. “Come, we shall leave your father to rest, so that tomorrow he is fit to show me how much trouble he and I can find amid the flowers.”

My husband sighed, too, but then another huge yawn consumed him. “Quite a lot, I hope. You know I how deeply I like to get into trouble with you.”

With Míriel safely in my lap, I hummed in anticipation as we left the hearth for our blankets. As he stripped off his shirt and trews, I hummed again, this time in appreciation.

He cast me a smile of gratitude rather than one of arousal, and stroked my hair. “I am very happy to be back in accord with you. You are my heart, my _a’maelamin_.”

“And you mine, _amrâlimê_. Sleep now, and we will savor each other in the flowers tomorrow.”

We kissed once more before Kíli lay down. I sat beside him, distracting Míriel with her doll for the few moments it took for Kíli to fall asleep. I stroked his hair lightly, then rose to take Míriel outside into the night with me.

The moon was a waxing crescent that sailed through the foaming band of stars high overhead. I sighed deeply as the starlight flowed over and into me; Míriel murmured softly, stretching her hand upwards as if she felt the light as strongly as I. I found a soft spot of ground under the open sky to lie in the grass with Míriel beside me, gazing up at the moon.

I had not realized how much Kíli idolized me – so much that a single thoughtless outburst had nearly undone him. I cringed. I was not one anyone should idolize, not given how many years I had spent lost in the Woodland Realm, venting my anger and loneliness on Orcs, black spiders, and Wargs. But Kíli was not just brave and loving and giving; he was very young, and ripe for infatuation with the first maid that showed him any attention...

No – he wasn’t merely infatuated. We shared a deep bond that would not be undone. We also had been granted great good fortune during our time together, because all conflict had originated outside us, not between us, and had served to bind us more firmly together. This was the first conflict between us, and it had shocked us both. But Kíli had risked all convention again, trying to explain himself to me in order to resolve it. He had muddled through so awkwardly, without any idea of what to say or how to say it, but he’d been brave enough to try. He’d tried because he loved me. And when it was over, he hadn’t pouted or stayed angry. No, he’d asked me to tryst in the flowers with him. It would likely be prickly in the grass. And hot. With too much sun. But it would still be lovely.

I smiled. My dark Dwarf might be very young, but many far older could take counsel in his fearlessness to try anything new. He’d even been brave enough to talk to a maid.

 

* * *

 

I woke up before the dream was fully formed, but my body was rigid, knowing what it would have depicted – the up and down, up and down, up and down motion when I was tied to the back of a Warg, or the searing pain of being flogged down to the bone, or not being able to breathe when a Gundebad Orc hauled me off my feet by the chain around my neck. I forced myself awake. I was sweating, and the stink of my fear clogged my nostrils. Yes, I was in the Orc Spawn tent, so I was free of the Orcs. I froze, not willing to move, because moving would make the raw welts on my back burn with such agony...

No, no, that time had passed. My back had healed months ago, and _Maamr_ and the Dwarves who’d rescued me with the Orc Spawn had gone home after that. I was... where? Ah, yes, inside Beorn’s thorn hedge, on my way to Mirkwood to try to get an Elvish king to talk about my folk’s emigration to Erebor without causing an Elvish-Dwarvish war.

I exhaled and sat up. Despite my almost dream, I’d slept well. The tent was empty. I pulled on my trews and boots, but was too sweaty to put on a clean shirt, so I carried it with me when I left the tent. I took my wood axe, too. I was already in need of a bath, so I might as well do a little work for my breakfast before I washed.

Elves were scattered here and there over Beorn’s grounds, some talking quietly together, others perhaps collecting things for the table, and still others tending the horses. A few more were likely inside Beorn’s house eating. Many, I smiled to see, stood out in the garden marveling at the giant bees I’d told Tauriel about. The huge insects bumbled peacefully along from one flower to another, seemingly unbothered by so many strange folk meandering through their blossoms. I didn’t see any of the Orc Spawn other than Rhiannel by the horses, so I raised a hand to him as I headed to Beorn’s large woodpile. I was too short by halves to use the big stump that served as his chopping block, but I found a nice solid round that suited me, and spent a pleasant few moments splitting logs. Getting into the rhythm of my axe was calm and peaceful, and I enjoyed the stretch of muscles and the solid feel when steel cleaved through wood cleanly.

“You don’t like the size of my woodpile?” Beorn commented, but he was smiling as he leaned against his chopping block to watch me, arms folded over his chest.

I grinned as I split the next log, and set the next one on my block. “No woodpile is ever big enough, or so my mother thought. When I was young, she made me chop a lot of wood as punishment for doing one daft thing or another.” I brought the axe down just right, splitting the log into two pieces more neatly than I’d slice cake, then set up the next one. “It’d upset her to know how much I enjoyed it.” The next log fell easily to my axe. “It’s a good way to start the morning, and to thank you for my breakfast. Besides, someone’s got to replace the wood you’ve burned for all these bloody Elves. Not an axe among the lot of them.”

Beorn chuckled softly. “They’re a lot quieter than Dwarves, though.”

I grinned again. “Some of this lot threw me a wedding feast that was far from quiet. It was quite impressive. But I grant you, most Elves are a lot quieter than most Dwarves. They don’t eat as much, either.”

“Truth,” Beorn nodded consideringly, as he picked up his axe. It was almost as long as I was tall. “I like you. You aren’t afraid to tell the truth, or to work hard.”

I paused long enough to bow to the giant. “I thank you, but it’s just common sense. Saves time in the long run to tell the truth from the start.”

“Not so common, from what I’ve seen.” He took up a log. “You will try to make a treaty with the king of the Woodland Realm.”

I went back to splitting, but snorted. “He won’t be easy. He doesn’t like things to change, and they’re about to. He can ignore it, and me, but then Dwarves will be everywhere, as annoying as Dwarves can be. If he accepts the inevitable, and helps with it, he might not be so annoyed.”

Beorn grunted as he raised his great axe and brought it decisively down on his chosen log. “Tell him that. If it will help to convince him, you tell him that my people and I have settled terms with you, too.”

“Your people?” I looked up. “I thought you said you were the last of your kind.”

He cast me a glance, smiling a bit in his gruff way. “In a way. I am the last to live so far south, away from the northern stretches of our realm. The Orcs do not make it easy. But I like it here, and the Orcs will pass. My sons will have children who will need land, so more will come soon enough.”

I mulled that over as I chopped. “Good. I’m glad your folk will be present to treasure this place. I like it here.”

Beorn split another massive log. “Good soil, good water.”

“A good life.”

“Don’t let the king divert you. He won’t want to hear what you have to say, so he’ll look to make you angry, to distract you. The more he tries, the closer you are to making him hear you.”

I chopped another log, then turned to look at him. “So it’s like an odd sort of game, then. Don’t listen to his words, just the amount of his agitation.”

Beorn nodded. “So I have found. Thranduil is not a bad king, just a very stubborn one.”

I laughed. “Maybe I’ll have a chance, then. Dwarves are very stubborn, too.”

He cast me a smile, then took up the next log. Conversation lapsed as we chopped together for some moments.

“I’m sorry it was so dark last night when we crossed the ford at the Carrock,” I said after a while. “I didn’t get as good a look at it as I’d like. I’d like to go back to it in daylight, with your leave.”

Beorn nodded. “Today, I will work here. But tomorrow we will see the ford. I will go with you.”

“I’d be grateful. Um, may I offer you something in return, Beorn?”

He grunted assent.

“I mean no presumption. But I’m a smith, and if you want that shackle off your wrist, I can do it.”

“It reminds me of the Orcs.”

“I hazard that you have reminders enough without it. You don’t have to suffer their iron, too. It probably cuts when you turn into the bear.”

Beorn turned a steady stare on me.

I chopped another log. “They put their chain around my neck, not my wrist. I wasn’t about to wear it any longer than I had to. I don’t have to look at my back to remember those two Orcs, either. I won’t ever forget them, but it’s easier for me to get past them without wearing their idea of jewelry.”

I split three or four more logs while Beorn regarded me, but I took to heart what he’d told me about not letting people distract me, and let him stare.

“I will consider it.”

I nodded, concentrating on my chopping. Eventually, Beorn went back to chopping, too.

“Good morn, Kíli. Good morn, Beorn.”

Tauriel drew near, Míriel in her arms. The bairn burbled when I waved to her, waving back. To see her blossom from an infant to a child was exciting, drawing my smile. “Good morn, Tauriel. Hullo, Miri! How is my little jewel this morn?”

Beorn paused in his chopping to regard the newcomers. “Good morn, Tauriel. This is your daughter?”

“Míriel,” Tauriel replied, smiling fondly as she did anytime anyone mentioned our bairn. “She is eight months old, and finds your squash plants the perfect hiding spot.”

The giant flashed his wide smile, and held out his hand for the bairn. When Tauriel passed her over without a qualm, Beorn cupped her in his huge hands and cocked his head at her. Miri blinked back inquisitively, burbling at him. When he raised her high over his head, she looked down with her bright eyes, then looked all around her, struck by this new perspective. He lowered her down and passed her back to Tauriel.

“She is not afraid.”

I smothered a grin. “Not of anything. Even Orc battles.”

“Which frightens both of us to death,” Tauriel sighed.

Beorn fluffed Míriel’s hair with a single long finger. “A great warrior, then.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” I admitted. “Were you looking for me, _amrâlimê_?”

“I am about to have breakfast, and wondered if you would join me. After that, we can talk with the rest of the Orc Spawn about what to do to prepare for King Thranduil.”

“I need to wash before I’m presentable, but will be along shortly. Beorn, I thank you for your advice. I will heed it well.”

Beorn lifted a hand in acceptance, and turned back to his axe. Tauriel and Míriel came with me to the tent to collect clean clothes, then we found the stream and I did a thorough wash. Once I was clean, I played with Míriel while Tauriel washed. Dirt didn’t seem to stick to Elves the way it did me, so it took her much less time. She told me she’d taken Míriel to see Beorn’s immense bee skeps this morn, and that the bees were just as large as I’d told her they were. One or two drifted by as we washed, drawing Míriel to point and burble at them. In short order we were clean, dry, clothed, and ready for breakfast.

None of the Orc Spawn were in Beorn’s house yet, though a few of the guardsmen were. I boosted Míriel up atop the table, and then climbed up one of the stools. It was big enough for two, so I gave Tauriel a hand up to sit beside me. I was hungry after my chopping, so eagerly snared a pair of hardboiled eggs and an enormous seed bun. Míriel didn’t reach for anything immediately, so I stuffed an egg in my mouth while I slathered butter and honey on my bun, then wolfed down the bun. Another covered with plum jam quickly followed, washed down with Beorn’s rich milk. By then, I Míriel was interested, so I offered her sips of milk, buttered bread, and yellow egg yolk. She ate everything with delight.

I snickered as she opened her mouth wide for more bun. “It took her a lot less time to learn how to eat than it did to crawl.”

“It must be your Dwarvish appetite,” Giriel said by way of greeting. She clambered up onto the stool next to ours. “ _Aaye_ , Miri! Are you enjoying all these wonderful things to eat?”

“Ga,” Míriel said emphatically, reaching for the bowl of honeycomb.

“Oh and oh, you must stay out of that,” I pulled her gently back. “You’ve already had one bath last night, and another this morning. You have to stay clean for at least two hours before you have the next one.”

We told Giriel about Míriel’s adventure sneaking under the squash leaves as Rhiannel and Tethrandil joined us, and Tauriel told the story her mother had told her about bairns under cabbage plants. By the time we’d all slaked the worst of our hunger, I asked my friends if we could begin my education, to which they all agreed with varying degrees of seriousness and humor. We snared Lindir from Lord Elrond, found a comfortable spot under the trees to lounge, and set a few platters of treats in the middle of us to sweeten our conversation.

“I had a thought while I was chopping this morning,” I ventured, drawing everyone’s eyes. “There’s likely a wealth of things I don’t know about ambassadoring, and in just a few days, it’s not likely that I’ll learn it all. So I thought that the first thing I should learn is something immediately useful – everything Tauriel can tell me about the Woodland Realm and King Thranduil. That would tell us what other things I need to know.”

“An excellent idea,” Tethrandil agreed. He looked to Tauriel. “Would you tell us what a typical day for him is like?”

Lindir immediately jumped up. “Go ahead. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Tauriel began to talk, gauging how much detail to include by the questions we asked her. She hadn’t gotten far before Lindir returned with Lord Elrond and Gandalf in tow, so we made room for them in our circle. As Tauriel continued, more of the guardsmen sat with us. Clearly there was much curiosity about what life was like in another Elvish realm. So many questions arose, in fact, that Tauriel ended up talking for most of the morning. Gandalf was content to sit silently smoking his pipe, but Lord Elrond had several questions to ask, mostly about how active a part King Thranduil took in running his kingdom.

“He is very active, my lord,” Tauriel replied. “There are some things he does delegate, such as the guard, which was my purview. He asked for detailed reports, which he does review and discusses if need be, but he does not hover. And while he has no intention of stepping aside as king, he has prepared his son, Prince Legolas, well. King Thranduil became king through the death of his father, and he does not want the Woodland Realm to suffer if such a fate befalls him, so Legolas is a regular participant in many aspects of the realm. Once treaties have been negotiated, the prince does much of the traveling to oversee needed aspects.”

“Did you ever take part in the king’s negotiations with traders, or merchants, or other delegations?” Tethrandil asked. “You allude to the king negotiating them himself, rather than delegating. Is that so?”

Tauriel nodded. “The king does not ride out of his kingdom often, though the events at Erebor show that he does in extreme need. The kingdom is big enough that most merchants and tradesmen gladly come to the king, rather than him going to them. I never sat at the table with him as a negotiator, for I was merely the captain of the guard. But I have seen to the security of many such negotiations, both for the king and his visitors. In many cases, I stood over the table myself.”

“And what sort of negotiator is the king?” Gandalf asked. It was the first time he’d spoken all morning.

Tauriel smiled, but it was a rueful one. “He is a master of all aspects, beginning with first impressions. As Kíli can tell you, his audience chamber is quite impressive.”

I was quick to nod, and together we described King Thranduil’s magnificent Antlered Throne and the stupendous audience chamber around it for our friends. Tauriel revealed how carefully the king considered his appearance, making the most of his tall elegance with sleek regal robes in rich fabrics, then enhancing it with a tall crown to further the illusion of height. He preferred to negotiate from atop his throne, even having tables and chairs brought onto the platform at the base of the throne, which added even more height. On the rare occasion that he unbent enough to step down from his throne, it still rose behind him in all its magnificence, for he would never let anyone forget whom they dealt with.

I described my audience with him, a recitation that provoked laughter at my audacity that the king was clearly unprepared to address. But Tauriel sobered us with the tale she told of the subsequent conversation she’d had with him when he’d decided to assassinate me. That provoked an interesting exchange of looks between Lord Elrond and Gandalf. I was further sobered when Tauriel related her last conversation with the king, and described Legolas’s surprising break with his father.

“What is your assessment of this break between father and son?” Tethrandil asked. “Do you think it lasted after you left the kingdom?”

“I cannot say,” Tauriel shook her head. “I hope it did not last, for the kingdom benefits from the prince’s presence. King Thranduil is by and large a fair and just ruler, but he can be quick to take offense, and he does not like to deal with mortals. His son mitigates both, because the king loves his son very much, for all that he does not show it, and values his opinion. Legolas’s refusal to leave the field at Erebor was all that kept the king there. The prince is not fond of Dwarves, I am sorry to say, but he can be reasoned with, and in turn he can reason with his father. He is well liked, works hard, and is compassionate to his folk.”

“What routes to the trade delegations use to come to the king?” Giriel, of all people, asked. When others looked at her in surprise, she grinned unabashedly. “They come to him from the east, yes?”

Tauriel nodded. “They do. The kingdom itself has shrunk over the centuries, and the route that Kíli wants to use for his folk has long been neglected. Even the route that Thorin Oakenshield’s company used is poorly maintained.”

Giriel nodded thoughtfully. “What chance do we have of taking those westward paths and appearing unannounced on his doorstep?”

“More than you would expect,” Tauriel replied. “The distance from the edge of Beorn’s lands to the Woodland Realm’s cavern is perhaps one hundred and seventy-five miles. During the first several days, we would not be noticed, but the closer we come to the caverns, the more likely our discovery will be, for the guard does run regular patrols. Still, we might escape notice for longer than we expect. I was the only one who kept watch outside the cavern at night for many years. It was deemed foolhardy, despite how often it alerted us to the predations of Orcs and Wargs. So perhaps we might escape notice for all but the last twenty or thirty miles.”

“Good,” Giriel grinned. “That should be enough.”

“Enough for what?” I asked.

Giriel leaned forward to tickle Míriel’s nose with a stalk of grass, making the bairn try to grab the fluffy tuft. “I was thinking about cutting through _dahaut_ , Kíli, which is what you asked me to do. All this impressing the king likes to do... it takes time to arrange, yes?” Tauriel nodded. “But if he doesn’t have so much time to arrange it, would it fluster him?”

Tauriel thought about that. My _amrâlimê_ was such a good tactician that she quickly saw the ramifications of Giriel’s questions. “Likely not... but he would not have time to settle on an opinion about why we are here, especially once he learns that Lord Elrond is in our company. He will have to listen to us for himself.”

Giriel nodded, then flashed me a grin. “Exactly. We’d give him less time to generate _dahaut_ to throw in our way.”

Many of the Elves looked mystified at Giriel’s term, if not Rhiannel and Tethrandil, and Lord Elrond arched an eyebrow.

“Less time to generate distractions,” the high lord surmised. I didn’t bother to tell him the real meaning of the word, and only nodded. Gandalf must have known what I left unsaid, for he didn’t hide his smile. “More chance to settle to a favorable negotiation.”

“If that’s going to work, then we have to travel through Mirkwood quickly,” I said. “Is that feasible? When Uncle Thorin’s company went through, it took us forever.”

“You were on foot, but still you traveled most of the way before my patrol noticed you,” Tauriel pointed out. “We found you only because of the spiders. With our horses, we would travel faster.”

“We got lost off the path, too,” I remembered. “So we need a guide to keep us on the path.”

Now Tauriel looked unsure. “I can be that guide. But... I am banished from the kingdom.”

I looked to Lord Elrond and Gandalf. “How mad would King Thranduil be if one of you put Tauriel under your protection, so she could guide us? Would that condemn my negotiations from the start?”

“Let us turn the question around, Kíli,” Tethrandil suggested. “Suppose Lord Elrond banned someone, and King Thranduil came to call with that someone in tow. It would be awkward, to say the least.”

“Unless there were extenuating circumstances at play,” Gandalf murmured, with a deep glance at me. He meant the cursed necklace I’d all but forgotten about ever since I’d given it to Gandalf to carry on our journey. Only the wizard, Lord Elrond, Lindir, Tauriel, and I knew of it, and none of us spoke of it now. “I think we have talked enough for the moment. We have many things to consider, and it is well past time for luncheon. With your leave, Kíli, let us take the afternoon to reflect, and resume tomorrow.”

I was wise enough to listen to a wizard, so I quickly nodded agreement. “Of course, Gandalf. I’m well ready for luncheon, myself.”

Murmurs of agreement met my words as the Elves rose and made their way away to other pursuits. I lingered, however, in response to the gleam in Gandalf’s eye. So did Tauriel, Lindir, and Lord Elrond.

“I think the item we discussed in Imladris gives us a reason to include you in our party through Mirkwood,” Gandalf said lowly, looking to Tauriel. “We need to make good speed, and while I remember most of the way, I would prefer to have your fresher knowledge with us so we do not suffer the least delay. I think our Giriel is right to give Thranduil little time to consider how we threaten him, before we arrive to tell him that we do not.” He smiled at my wife. “I thank you, Tauriel. What you told us will be a great help to us on both fronts. Now, keep your counsel, all of you, as you have, and we will see what the king has to say to us soon enough.”

Gandalf turned to Lord Elrond, and the two headed to the high lord’s pavilion, surely for private discussion. I turned to Tauriel and Lindir.

“Thank both of you for helping me today. That was smart, Lindir, to get Lord Elrond. Knowing about the king will help him as much as me.”

Lindir smiled in appreciation of my thanks. “It seemed a good idea, so that our lord can help us deal with Mirkwood’s lord.”

“Without a doubt. And Gandalf’s right. Talking is thirsty, hungry work. Let’s go take care of both.”

We followed many of the Elves towards Beorn’s house, eager for another taste of the skin changer’s bounty.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all!
> 
> Today, Kili and Tauriel do what all loving couples do when they travel to exotic places -- indulge in hot, delicious sex, and see the local sights. Enjoy the fluff!

  _Thranduil said nothing about his son’s impending return. Despite the fair summer weather and the great falloff in Orc attacks since the battle for Erebor, there was still no predicting how long it would take Legolas to return from his wanderings. Still, he ordered the servants to clean all of the royal apartments each week from now forward._

_The rumors began forthwith._

_“The king has ordered everything cleaned!” one maid griped to the other._

_“What, even the queen’s apartment?”_

_“Yes, and the prince’s, too. Every week! That is three times the work!”_

_The doorman pricked up his ears, and spoke to the guard who stood outside. “Is there news about the prince? Anything? He has been away for some time.”_

_“Two years, yes. We miss him on the guard.”_

_“On a trade mission, surely?”_

_“I cannot say.”_

_The servant who carried the king’s tableware back to the kitchen said to the under cook, “I heard the doorkeeper talk to the guard, and the guard said that that Legolas has been on a secret trade mission for two years. But something has happened.”_

_“Happened? What happened?”_

_“I do not know. But the king has ordered his apartment cleaned.”_

_“Clean the prince’s apartment? So he is coming back?”_

_“I do not know. All is held in silence.”_

_The undercook mentioned to the wine steward over a late bottle that night, “The prince will be home in a week. He has been on a secret trade mission.”_

_“Bu he has been gone for two years! No trade mission takes that long.”_

_“What else could it be, then? I know, perhaps he has been in Dale, working to restore the great craft halls there. The city was known far and away for all manner of its crafts, from fabric, lanterns, toys...”_

_“That must be it. He seeks to make trade agreements for the king. You know our king’s love of the finest silk and wool and cotton.”_

_“Perhaps. But I hear that the trees of Lothlórien foster the finest silkworms by far. Maybe the prince returns from there...”_

_The two servants were so deeply engaged in their speculation that they didn’t notice the black-haired Elf pass them. Neither did they notice the Elf stop once he had gone past, turn to regard them, then reverse his steps to follow them. His black eyes narrowed as he caught more of their gossip. When it was clear that he could learn nothing more from his eavesdropping, he let them pass into the next corridor, then resumed his original path._

_So Prince Legolas Greenleaf was returning to the Woodland Realm. Secrecy had been complete for the past two years as to the prince’s whereabouts, and no number of subtle inquiries had turned up the least hint of where the prince had gone. But this hint of Lothlórien... why would the prince go to Lothlórien? And whom had he seen there?_

_After a thousand years, he still regretted sending the dreamflower necklace to Lothlórien. He didn’t know or care what had happened to the maid whose name he no longer remembered. But to relinquish such a valuable relic... that, he regretted. He should not have been so hasty. With a more considered application of the necklace’s powers, he could have achieved the same result, yet retained it for future endeavors._

_It was unlikely that either the prince’s absence or his anticipated return had anything to do with the dreamflower necklace. But he would make the usual inquiries, just as he had done for the past millennium. The necklace was likely past recapturing. But it did no harm to inquire._

 

* * *

 

Luncheon was relaxed and comfortable as many of us crowded around Beorn’s table to share his bounty. Several of the guardsmen helped bring in the baskets of produce, and others arrived with various kinds of bread hot from the oven. We talked about tomorrow’s excursion to the ford at the Carrock, which both Lord Elrond and Gandalf wanted to be a part of, which meant the guard would also attend. Tethrandil asked me about King Thranduil’s feasts, so that he could consider the correct protocol for Kíli. When Lindir joined our conversation, the two of them became so engrossed in such esoteric points of cutlery and napkins that Kíli winked at me and squeezed my hand under the table, surreptitiously urging me away. Giriel already had Míriel in hand, and when Kíli and I slipped outside, she let me go with a covert wink. We eased away from the house and tiptoed around the back past the humming bee skeps.

Kíli polished off his peach with such a hum of enjoyment that I chuckled. “Did you get enough, then, _a’maelamin_?”

Grinning, he held up a napkin full of snacks. “Enough to dull the growl of my stomach, not enough to make me sleepy. If I get hungry, this’ll tide me over until supper.” He looked up at the sky, then out over the grounds. “Good. Nice and hot.”

“Too hot for the flowers?” I sighed, disappointed

“That’s what I hope the rest of our lot think, so they don’t think to venture where we’re going. Come on, before they finish, and see us.”

Hand in hand, we stopped at our tent for a blanket and a bottle of water, then flitted past a wide garden of lavender, clover, and other herbs, all busily attended by Beorn’s great bees. Just beyond was a broad stand of tall oak trees that stood on a slight rise. The far edge of it was thickly bordered with plumed grasses under the trees, gradually changing to wildflowers that covered the ground all the way to the thorn thicket. We waded through the grasses to the edge of the shade, and laid our blanket down on the gentle slope. When we sat down, we were out of sight in a sheltered nest that was protected from the worst of the sun, yet open enough to allow the breeze to play over us. To our west, past the thorn thicket, we had a clear view of the Misty Mountains wreathed in clouds, and the edge of Beorn’s bee gardens.

“This is beautiful.”

Kíli leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the canopy of green above us. He shut his eyes and breathed in deeply. “It is. It smells like honey.”

“It does.” I leaned beside him on one elbow. “And lavender.”

“Bee balm, too.” He took another deep breath, then opened his eyes. “You lived under stone or trees for so many years. I wasn’t sure whether it would bother you to be in so much open air.”

“It is a much wider vista than our garden at home,” I agreed. “But that bench we like so much outside of Lord Elrond’s dining chamber overlooks the river gorge, which is just as open.”

He turned towards me to stroke my hair. “This one isn’t quite as epically magnificent. It’s a quieter beauty. Peaceful.”

I traced a finger from his jaw down his throat to the laces of his shirt. I had only to touch them for Kíli’s breath to catch. His gaze slid down to watch me loosen his laces until his chest was bare to the sternum, then back up to meet my eyes, flushing with the bright mischief that I loved so much. “I hope you’re about to take rampant advantage of me.”

I traced a finger down Kíli’s chest, and pretended to regard him with critical consideration as I opened his shirt wider. I twitched the silver marriage ring in his ear, traced his lips, stroked the soft, dark shadow of his beard, and paused at the hollow at the base of his throat. “Yes, you do look like a corsair.”

He hummed low in his throat as my fingers continued to tease their way down his sternum, past his navel. His smile was anticipatory, hinting at feral thoughts. “You look like a maid intent on no good.” His breath caught again as my hand covered what was growing under his trews and rubbed slowly, up and down. “Valar, you don’t just _look_ like you’re intent on no good.”

“When a dark Dwarf invites me to take advantage of him,” I replied, continuing my attentions, “it seems only fitting to show him what he’s brought upon himself.”

“Eternal doom, I hope,” he gasped, as I loosened his belt, and drew the front of his trews and his smalls down until the only thing covering his cock were my fingers. His lips parted in a gasp as I took him in hand and stroked slowly... oh, my husband was an enticing sight. I leaned over to silence his gasp with a featherlight kiss on his lips.

“Oh, Valar, Tauriel –” Kíli tensed uncontrollably under my attentions.

“Has no maid ever caressed you so?”

“You know they haven’t.” He shut his eyes as he tried to master himself, but I sped up just enough that his efforts were in vain. “Tauriel, I’m going to –”

I slowed my hand, then stopped until his imminent release calmed, then stroked him again. “You’re going over the moon... eventually. I’m going to watch you.”

Kíli’s moan was nearly silent, but he managed a sly grin. “Have at, maid. Enjoy every moment of it, because I certainly will.”

If it excited him to watch me tease him, it doubly excited me to do it. The way his body rose under my attentions, the disarray of his clothing, the lengthening of his cock as I possessed it, the arousal on his face as I drew him closer and closer to release... how delicious those were to savor! I kissed him lightly again, my lips offering him as chaste a caress as my hand around his cock did not. The combination of chaste and carnal was powerful, and Kíli wasn’t shy about letting me see how much he enjoyed my attentions, which was a further excitement. When the moment came, his head went back, his body arched, and a soundless gasp swept out of his lungs like an invocation as he released. He alternatively flexed and curled his spine in rhythm with my strokes as I milked every last spasm of pleasure out of him. When he was done, I cupped his balls and kissed him as carnally as I hadn’t during his arousal.

“Oh, Valar, Tauriel.” He pushed himself off his elbows to kiss me with as much passion as I did him. He groped for the fastenings of my tunic. “Such a fire you’ve lit in me... Take off your clothes, or I’ll tear them off, and you’ll have to walk back to the tent naked.”

He watched me hungrily as I undressed, but I did it slowly to see how far he was willing to let me tease him. His eyes were dangerously aglitter as I unfastened my tunic the rest of the way, and eased off my leggings and underthings. I cast him a look.

“Off,” he growled, so I slowly slid one arm free, then teased the fabric down my other arm –

He yanked the tunic off my arm, wound his fingers in my hair, and pulled me down beside him. “Have a care,” he said, rolling to his side to swallow me in a rough kiss. “Or you’ll find out what happens when you tease a dark Dwarf to the ends of his patience.”

“Oh, I hope so,” I grinned, humming as he ran his hand ran across my ribs and down my hip, then back up my torso. He caressed my breast, squeezing it gently, and snared my nipple between forefinger and thumb; when he rolled it between his fingers, spasms of pleasure shot through my body. The pleasure grew more compelling when his lips found my other breast to suckle. As he rolled atop me, the brush of his body against mine sent all of my skin spasming into gooseflesh. I fumbled for his shirt, pulling it over his head; he pulled it the rest of the way off as I got the waists of his trews and smalls between my toes and slid them down his legs.

“Useful trick, that,” he grinned, as he toed off his boots, then trews and smalls. “But dangerous. It makes me think you like coupling naked with a Dwarf under the open sky.”

“I don’t know if I do or not,” I said in a considering tone. “I haven’t coupled with one yet.”

“I’ve give you a good, long time to consider,” he said, nestling between my thighs, then slid inside me without effort. “Pillage a dark Dwarf so ruthlessly, get the same in return.”

There was nothing delicate or subtle about Kíli’s attentions, and everything intense, sweet, and delicious. It was a sensory feast – the soft breeze, the dappled shade, the smell of the flowers as well as Kíli’s spicy scent, and rampant delight cresting through my body in waves. I wound my hands in Kíli’s beautiful mane, tightened my legs around his waist, and matched the powerful thrust of his hips with my own. Under such intense attentions, it wasn’t long before my pleasure surged from merely wonderful to urgent. I tightened around Kíli to keep him from pulling back for another thrust.

“Slowly now,” I asked, my hands on his hips to slow his rhythm. “It’s so intense, _a’maelamin_ , so sweet. Slowly, to make it last...”

He held himself above my chest, letting me guide his thrusts in and out. Each slow, deep dive back inside me brought a flood of pleasure. How that pleasure bloomed the smallest, smallest bit with each unhurried stroke, until my whole body trembled, desperate to both prolong and release the delight.

“Oh, _amrâlimê_ ,” Kíli whispered. Even the sound of his voice aroused a flush of pleasure in me. “Precious _amrâlimê_ , beautiful _amrâlimê_...”

I eased him forward for another stroke. This would be the last one I could control. As my body readied to fly, I pulled him forward again, faster now, then again, again, again, until Kíli’s own urges took over, and he found our rhythm, plunging deeply and straining for his own release. Enveloping him in my embrace both inside and out, tightening around him, I hung deliriously on the horns of the moon, until Kíli spasmed, drawing me to soar with him in ecstatic release.

Kíli’s lips found mine as he supported himself on his arms and legs above me, biting my upper lip gently as we both drifted softly down from the moon. He kissed my throat, my collarbone, and his fingers twined in my hair as my body loosened its hold on him. He slipped out of me, but stayed between my thighs, his strong hands caressing and massaging my body gently. My release faded into the comfort of his touches, and I shut my eyes as we lay together amid the scent of flowers and the sound of bees. Soon, though, Kíli wasn’t content to soothe me so calmly. His fingers found my most sensitive spots, still tender after our exertions, but eager to rise again under his delicate touch. Kissing, suckling, stroking, he teased me into a second release quicker than I would have thought possible. He was content to watch me as I’d watched him, and then we both lay back on the blanket, my head on his shoulder, his arm across my ribs.

Kíli sighed. “That’s the best way I’ve ever found to spend a summer afternoon.” He reached to the side for his napkin of treats, slipped out a peach, and took a bite. He held the peach out for me to take a bite of my own.

“Mmm.” I licked the rich juice from my lips. “The only thing on a summer afternoon fit to follow delight with a dark Dwarf.”

Kíli chuckled. “I brought a muffin or two if you’d rather indulge in those.”

“You look after me very well.”

“I want to. You are the best part of my life.” Kíli looked up at the canopy of leaves as he casually chewed his peach. His tone wasn’t impassioned or desperate as a callow lad’s would have been, but matter-of-fact, unconcerned with revealing his devotion. He looked over at me with a slight smile, but it was the crooked one, and his eyes were once again full of the warm light that was his alone. When I sat up to kiss him, the taste of peach on his lips was as sweet as his affection for me.

“You are the best of all things, Kíli. No one has ever been as cherished as I am, and you are my greatest treasure. And I must admit... you are an utter delight to pillage.”

He grinned, snaring a piece of my hair to tug gently. “Anytime you get the urge to do so, don’t hesitate. It’ll be my pleasure to respond in kind.”

We lay together a while longer, finishing our fruit and a muffin or two, then rousing to tidy ourselves and resume our clothing. We spent a few more moments combing our hair back to some semblance of order, but didn’t tarry. We had imposed on the kindness of Giriel and Rhiannel to care for Míriel while we dallied, and it was time to collect our daughter.

We shook out our blanket, brushed the grass from our clothes, and took one last look out over the flowers. When we went back to our tent, it was hand in hand.

 

* * *

 

The Anduin River flowed placidly through Beorn’s lands, neither terribly wide nor rough, given that it was so far from the Misty Mountains. It didn’t draw attention to itself, but even the roughest river would have been hard pressed to distract one’s gaze from Beorn’s Carrock. It was a high, ancient finger of rock that thrust up from the flat land to an alarming height, and the top of it had weathered and crumbled into the eerie shape of a bear’s head with upthrust, open jaws. Gandalf had told me the first time I’d seen it that Beorn was wont to sit atop it in his bear form, surveying the surrounding expanse, though whether he searched for enemies or simply considered his thoughts, I didn’t know. When eagles had rescued Uncle Thorin’s company from Azog, they’d set us down atop this high perch, and even after viewing the ground so far away from the back of a giant eagle, viewing it from atop the Carrock was no less terrifying. One could see for miles in all directions. A carved stairway had allowed us to clamber down, and upon reaching the ground we discovered ourselves to be on an eyot in the middle of the Anduin. The Carrock predated the river’s current path, for the water flowed around it, broadening its channel. Deposits of silt and rocks at its base formed a natural ford, which Beorn and his kin had adjusted to further ease the crossing. He stood with me at the edge of the river, just as the point where gravel began to fill the channel.

“How much work was it to arrange the gravel?” I asked.

“The river laid it down over long years,” the giant said in his deliberate way. “My sons and I saw how it made the water shallow, and the bottom of the channel more even. So we shifted it, as we needed to even the path. The bigger rocks were more work. Several required the strength of many of our cattle to shift. But even a few inches helped to encourage the smaller rocks to fall into place. Even in spring, when the river is high with snowmelt, the largest stones remain in place. It has been many years since we have had to do more than clear the winter wrack that accumulates.”

I looked around, but saw no piles of wood that I expected to see. “What did your folk do with the wood you cleared from the water? I would have expected to see it stacked on either side of the river.”

Beorn shook his head. “When more of my people lived this far south, we took the wood for our fires, and for building. Some of it was very large, and salvaging it was far easier than cutting similar pieces ourselves. None of it went to waste.”

“Sensible,” I agreed.

Beorn went on to point out where he and his kin had done the most work, and described that work in detail. Around me, the rest of our company explored both banks of the river as well as the base of the eyot. Of course, Giriel was all for climbing to the top of the Carrock, which Beorn granted with an amused grin. As she and Rhiannel scampered off, he regarded the Elf maid with a smile.

“She is fearless, like your daughter,” he commented.

I snickered. “She was the first Elf maid from Imladris I met. I haven’t met another like her since. A force in battle, a staunch friend, and enthusiastic about everything.”

Tauriel broke away from where she’d been conversing with Gandalf on the bank. She had Míriel today, in her basket on her back, and our daughter peered over her mother’s shoulder with bright eyes. “Kíli, this looks so different in the daylight. The stone rises up so high! Gandalf told me that you carved the stair up, Beorn. Would you allow us to climb it? It would be a shame to come so far and not see the sights from the top.”

I looked at Beorn, who smiled. “Another enthusiastic Elf maid,” he observed. “Perhaps I should hold your little one. It is a steep climb.”

“I would be honored.” Tauriel turned and stooped so I could lift our bairn out of her basket and hand her to Beorn. “Have a care. She thinks it is a good game to pull any lock of hair she can reach.”

Beorn hummed. “Maybe she would enjoy meeting a wizard.”

I snickered. “Come on, Tauriel. Before she pulls anyone’s hair, and we have to take her back.”

Tauriel was quick to grab my hand and hasten to the ford. We jumped from one rock to the other, and started up the stair. When we reached the top, we found several of our company marveling at the dizzying view. Tauriel was rapt, gazing first in one direction, then another.

“You can see for at least ten miles downstream,” she said, pointing south where the Anduin disappeared into a silver ribbon. She turned to gaze in the other direction. “At least that far north, too. You can see all the way east to Mirkwood, and west to the Misty Mountains. Amazing.”

“I’ve never seen such a wide view,” I agreed. “It makes me a little dizzy to be this high.”

“I used to sit atop the tallest trees in Mirkwood outside our cavern,” Tauriel said. “One can see for some miles there, too. But only across the tops of the trees, not down so far. It doesn’t seem so high or so far as this does. There may be no other place in Middle Earth like this.”

“I don’t think there is. Perhaps from atop the Lonely Mountain at Erebor, from the very pinnacle? I never got to the mountain at all, much less to the top of it. I don’t think that view would seem so high or so exalted as this. This is an eagle’s aerie.”

“Yes,” Tauriel nodded. “An aerie atop a bear’s head.”

We spent several more moments drinking in the view, then, as a group of guardsmen came up with Lord Elrond, we made our careful way down again. It was no less precipitous than my first trip down, more dizzying than coming up had been, and I was glad we’d left Míriel at the bottom. Truth be told, I was glad to reach the bottom. I was too much a creature of the earth to feel comfortable so high in the sky. Tauriel, however, relished it, and actually made a second trip up with Giriel while I stayed down on the ground to hold Míriel and continue my study of the ford. Lindir came with me, and we made notes about what Beorn had told us about maintaining the ford. When we rode back to Beorn’s homestead, I was pleased to have so much information to help my folk when they’d begin their emigration.

That night, the Orc Spawn, including Lindir, gathered around our hearth to share tea and discuss the day. Míriel crawled between her extended family, and carried her toys back and forth as we laughed over the day’s tales. Tomorrow, I would have to go back to my ambassador lessons, but for now, we were just a nomadic clan, comfortable together as we mended or sipped tea or played with our bairn. Lindir and I agreed to copy out my agreement with Beorn in the morning, before I set to the day’s lessons. As the night deepened, the Elves ducked outside to take the starlight, and I banked the hearth fire and arranged myself for sleep. Tauriel and Míriel lay down with me in the dark as they usually did.

“A good day,” Tauriel murmured, stroking my arm as she lay beside me.

I hummed agreement. “Lindir and I have several pages of notes about the ford. It feels good to get started on that.”

“I loved climbing the Carrock.” Even in the dark, Tauriel’s smile was obvious because of the tone of her voice. “I wish I could ride an eagle the way you did. It must have been exhilarating.”

“Bloody frightening,” I corrected. “Fíli and I didn’t know whether to cling to each other or the eagle. We did a poor job trying to do both. In fact, the bloody bird _spoke_ to us, which was a shock. It was rather testy, telling us to calm down, stop squeaking, and let go the death grip we had on its feathers. Made us feel like mice.”

Tauriel giggled. “I suppose to an eagle of that size, you probably looked like mice.”

“Fíli was indignant. You know those handsome types – they always get put out when they find out they aren’t always as handsome as they think they are.”

“I wager you snickered at that.”

I snickered now. “I did. I loved my brother very much, but Valar, he could be a right pain about his looks. He’d never been accused of squeaking, or of clutching like a mouse at a bird’s feathers before, and he didn’t like it.”

“Still, I would have liked to have done it.”

“You would have loved it, and the eagle wouldn’t have said you squeaked or clutched its feathers like a mouse. You’re why Míriel isn’t afraid of anything.”

“So are you.”

“All right; we both are.” I reached out to Míriel, fluffing her hair. “Before long, little jewel, you will learn to walk, and then life will turn into one long, merry chase after you. I hope we are home before that happens.”

Tauriel sighed. “So do I. Perhaps we will not be long in the Woodland Realm, and we can return home before winter.”

I sighed, too. Thranduil would likely make a swift negotiation impossible, and the thought of spending the winter in that underground cavern had no appeal. Tauriel likely thought even less of the idea, given a host of reasons. But I didn’t bring any of them up now. We’d been reconciled from our first fight for two days, and we were happy. I didn’t want to lessen that happiness until journeying through Mirkwood did it for us. So I rubbed her arm, kissed her ear, and snuggled her close.

“I hope so,” was all I said.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Sadly, it's time to bid farewell to Beorn. Even Miriel will miss the skin changer!
> 
> We're on our way to Mirkwood! Meanwhile, somewhere in the Woodland Realm, a certain alchemist comes into hazy focus. How much time will pass before the past owner of the necklace crosses paths with those who have it now?

_The alchemist sat at his workbench, polishing the last roughness from the back of the golden ring. This was the four hundred and thirteenth such bauble he’d made since he’d returned to the Woodland Realm over a millennium ago. This one was a simple band of green gold, curling into two heart-shaped leaves. Between the leaves would be a cluster of carved purple gems forming a single violet blossom, delicate and fragile, fit for a beautiful lady. Its mate lay on a pad of suede, already polished; it was larger and heavier as befitted the lady’s husband._

_The alchemist set the lady’s ring beside the larger one, smiling as he admired his handicraft. The couple would find no fault with the graceful design, the inspired craftsmanship, or the precious materials._

_Only one step remained to finish the bands before he would set the amethysts. The alchemist positioned the rings carefully on their faces, exposing the metal that would back the jewels. A tiny hole remained in each of the otherwise smooth backs. With the utmost care, he unstoppered the black glass bottle that contained the precious dragon’s blood. Using a miniscule dropper, he captured a single, gleaming bead of the dark amber blood, and let it seep into the hole in the back of the lady’s ring. He repeated this for the lord’s ring. He carefully restoppered the bottle, dripped hot wax around the stopper to seal it, and set it back in its hidden niche. When the gold in the tiny crucible was ready, he painstakingly sealed the dragon’s blood inside each ring. Once the metal cooled, he polished the backs smooth with precise, controlled movements. The amethysts awaited in another fold of suede, already cut to size, and he quickly set the stones of both rings in place._

_There. They were done. He smiled again, fondling the rings in his hand. They were warmer than mere gold, lovely and sublime. A pair of treasures. Not even Celebrimbor would have found any fault with them._

_Celebrimbor, ruler of Eregion after Galadriel and Celeborn had fled it, was the master alchemist who’d crafted the greatest of magical Elvish rings in the famed forges of Ost-in-Edhil. He, Finlor, had worked beside the master and the other smiths, learning the deep lore that the mage Annatar had imparted to them that made such rings possible. Even so many centuries later, Finlor still snorted at the lost opportunities of that time. Who knows what other wonders Annatar could have taught them, if not for Celebrimbor’s suspicion of the great mage? The master smith had claimed that Annatar had dark motives for giving away his learning, but Finlor thought envy of Annatar’s wisdom was the true reason for the master’s sullenness. Whatever the case, Celebrimbor had come to a bad end for his suspicions. Annatar had risen up in affront, renamed himself Sauron, destroyed Ost-in-Edhil, and captured Celebrimbor for his insult. When torture hadn’t forced the master to reveal the whereabouts of the three greatest of Elvish rings he’d forged without Annatar’s help, Sauron had strung the master up on a pole and had Orcs shoot him to death. So much for hoping noble airs would bring a reward._

_Finlor had made his discreet exit from the city long before it had fallen. He’d helped himself to enough plain gold and gems from the city’s vaults to keep himself well until he could find a haven. He’d bided his time as a jeweler and alchemist in one or two remote outposts until the conflict with Sauron had died down. The conflagration had brought death to so many of those he’d once worked with that there was a dearth of alchemical knowledge throughout the land. It was a dearth that Finlor had been only too glad to fill for those able to offer the right incentives. The best positions had allowed him access to libraries, hoards of abandoned lore, and even material treasure. But the cream of the best had also had royal courts, full of intrigue and gossip. Courts were also full of people insecure in their positions – exactly the ones who would seek out an alchemist, because they were desperate for help to shore up their tenuous stature._

_Finlor had been careful, never making a thing of power that was of consequence. Such attracted attention from the adept. Imladris was full of such adepts, and a single visit there had been enough to tell him he wanted no place among them. They were too subtle to succumb to his guile, and would have considered his skills subversive enough to merit punishment. The Woodland Realm, though... as long as he’d stayed carefully innocuous to the ruling Sindar, he’d had rich pickings among the less exalted Nandor. So he’d made his rings, his lockets, his brooches, his pins, his necklaces, each promising to render the wearer a glamor that drew the high regard of others. And so they had done._

_Now wealthy and secure, Finlor feared little, not even the specter of Sauron. The Dark Lord was gone, and unable to use his cursed One Ring to claim Finlor’s trinkets. Even if Sauron ever rose again, remote though that was, Finlor’s skill had grown subtle enough that the Dark Lord would recognize it and welcome him as an ally._

_When he’d first acquired the dragon’s blood, Finlor had thought to sell it. But a cursory inquiry into its properties had changed that. Just as dragons spoiled the gold they slept on, so did their blood impart the dragon’s persuasiveness. It was not wise to look upon dragons when speaking to them, for their gaze would paralyze, and then their words would riddle their victims with doubt. With a little alchemical altering, Finlor had turned the blood into a double weapon – when added to a basic ring of slight, simple power, the blood made the wearer attract the regard of others, as promised. But the blood also made the wearers thirst for Finlor’s regard, as well._

_So Finlor’s trinkets had grown more subtle, and made his favor something to seek and savor. His customers had not noticed how their craving for his regard had made him a counselor without title, a power without office, a master who never had to ask for service._

_Finlor gave the two violet rings one last polish, bringing the amethysts to their brightest luster. Each one went into a plush box lined with fine embroidered silk. He would present the rings to the couple tonight, before the fete. He enjoyed a good party, and this one would be particularly toothsome, given how many of the attendees were bearers of his trinkets. There would be a good chance he’d glean something about the king’s son, and whether he’d been to Lothlórien or not._

_If he learned nothing, all would not be lost. There would still be so many Elves eager to dance for him._

_* * *_

 

I spent the next three days in almost constant, exhaustive training. It wasn’t physically exhausting, which I would have welcomed. No, this was training in subtleties that I had never imagined, so many that I again realized how smart I’d been to run hard and fast away from the kingship of Erebor. Learning to be an ambassador was harder than doing anything Master Dwalin had ever demanded of me. I couldn’t just use Dwarvish stubbornness to gut out a ten mile-run, or hours of blade practice, or uncounted repetitions of arcane physical exercises. No, being an ambassador meant I had to... think.

No, it was worse than just thinking. When I hadn’t liked something Master Dwalin had made me do, I’d often gotten through it by putting myself in a trance until the run was over, or by swearing under my breath, or thinking rude thoughts that made me laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Being an ambassador didn’t give me that outlet. Being an ambassador meant that on the outside I was polite, graceful, and elegant, while on the inside I played chess with all the ruthlessness of a dark wizard. Not casual chess, either – unemotional, three steps ahead, cross-checking, maneuvering chess.

No wonder my mother loved the game, I thought a tad unkindly, but then the whole idea was exasperating. I was a smith and a warrior and a husband, not a chess master! But I resolved to learn, if only to preserve my life with Tauriel in Imladris. At least I was just a small chess master, and not a king. I had to remember that this was the price of not being a king.

I kept in mind that my friends put me through this so that King Thranduil didn’t put me through a meat grinder, which would leave my folk with no agreement to ease their passage to Erebor. By the Valar, though – it was hard work! All the table manners, the small talk, the practice insults, the making nice! The litany of things that Tauriel told me that Thranduil was wont to say was daunting. Granted, he’d had many Dwarvish lifetimes to think of all these elegant putdowns, and he was quite creative in his own way. As often as I’d had much harsher insults thrown at me – along with fists, tankards, and axes – I hoped my skin was thick enough to withstand Elvish subtlety.

“The only thing I have going for me is that I’m stubborn, and I have only one thing to say,” I exhaled, as Tethrandil made me go through the protocol of the formal reception that Tauriel had described. We were with the Orc Spawn outside our tent, arranged on the grass as we might be around Thranduil’s throne room. “Deal with me to manage things, or the Dwarves will run willy-nilly over hill and yon.”

“You have more than that,” Lindir looked up from his parchment where he’d been writing the steps of the protocol down for me. “You have two treaties already made to bolster your position. You have Lord Elrond and Mithrandir in person to bolster your position, too. And you are a prince of Erebor, whether Erebor knows you are still alive or not.”

I looked over to Gandalf, who stood nearby watching our play-acting. “The king knows I’m a prince. I think I’ll just let him remember that on his own, without me saying it. Shouldn’t I, Gandalf?”

The wizard considered. “There are ways to say it without speaking it, my boy. Dress the part, and you will need no words to convey whatever the king chooses to think.”

“Those clothes you had made at the tailor’s,” Tauriel recalled, considering me. “Where are they? We should take them out for a look.”

“They’re in my baggage. I’ll get them.”

“Put them on, and show us what they look like,” Giriel said, grinning. She’d been playing King Thranduil, perched atop one of Beorn’s tall stools we’d hauled out onto the lawn. She’d even stuck a wide leafy branch between the twists of rushes to make a semblance of antlers, and she’d sat under it mouthing the snottiest of insults with entirely too much glee. Now she sat up to wave the stick that was her scepter towards the tent in an imperious fashion. “So the magnificent king of the great Woodland Realm commands!”

“At once, oh, great _shemator kautar_ ,” I replied, pointing my backside at her and wiggling it.

“Come back here and bow properly!” Giriel laughed, drawing the chuckles of our friends.

I waved her off and ducked inside the tent. Inside, I put on my finery carefully, not wanting to muss it before its official unveiling, and shook out my hair, which was still mostly tidy given how little physical exertion I’d done today. I stuck my head out of the tent.

“May I have a fanfare, if you please?”

A right lot of rude noise was Giriel’s contribution, but Rhiannel and Tauriel joined voices to give me a tuneful introduction. I smoothed the front of my coat, straightened, and went out – to silence.

“Well?” I finally asked, walking back and forth, arms out to better show myself to good advantage.

“I think you’ll do,” Gandalf nodded, smiling. “Nicely done, Kíli.”

“Nicely done? You look wonderful!” Giriel crowed. “That king will die of envy!”

I smoothed my coat again. Back in Imladris, I had asked Lindir to steer me to a tailor who’d give me good advice about such formal clothes, and he’d chosen a good one. I’d asked him to play up my odd looks, and so he’d put me in black suede trimmed in equally black fur, trimmed with silver studs and silk embroidery, and lined with blue silk. The tunic underneath was the same blue silk, trimmed in the silver embroidery. The lines of both coat and tunic were Elvish to make the most of my relatively slender body and high cheekbones, but the trim was embroidered Dwarvish knotwork that I’d drawn to scale for the tailor.

“You look most princely, and exotic,” Tauriel agreed, smiling. Hmm. Her expression was intent enough that tonight might be an excellent time to tease her into something decadent. “With your silver braid clasps, you will even more regal.”

“I can help with the regal part.” Giriel hopped down from her stool and disappeared into the tent. She came out with a plain silver circlet that Elves of all sorts wore as a matter of course. She held it over my head, bent it a little, and then looked at me.

“With your permission, Kíli?” she asked, before touching my hair.

“By all means,” I agreed, and she pressed it into my hair. She wasn’t satisfied with that, so she beckoned to Tauriel. She and my _amrâlimê_ arranged the circlet so that it went under my hair in the back and on the sides, and rested in the middle of my forehead. I shut my eyes as the delicate fingers of Elvish maids twitched my hair into place.

“We’ll do a better job of it come the real audience,” Giriel said, stepping back and looking at me with a critical eye. “But the circlet does make you look more princely.”

Tauriel had fetched a looking glass, and held it up for me. “It puts the final touch on the picture.”

“The illusion,” I snorted, but I had to admit that the image looking back at me was as regal as anything that could have appeared in Erebor.

“Illusion is what this is all about,” Gandalf inserted, puffing his pipe. “Not to make the treaty, of course. But to get to where you can make the treaty, illusion is nothing to disparage.”

“Mithrandir is right,” Tethrandil agreed. “Come, try our little pantomime again, dressed for the part, and see if it does not make a difference.”

We did took our places, and I went through all the fancy talk and the bows and the smiles. Tethrandil was right – I did feel different being dressed in my finery. I improved enough that the end of my performance was met with applause.

Maybe I had a chance, after all.

After the acting company dispersed, I went to Gandalf in private.

“Yes, Kíli?”

“I just wanted to ask, Gandalf. What do you want me to do about the necklace? Are you and Lord Elrond going to talk to the king about it, or do you want me to say anything, or carry it, or something else? I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but I want to know how to be prepared.”

“That necklace is something Lord Elrond and I have weighed in many a conversation,” the wizard allowed. “I think it wise that I continue to carry it. But given that you are the only other one of our company, and possibly in the Woodland Realm, who does not feel its effects, I would prefer you to remain close by. We do not know how King Thranduil will receive it, or even if we should show it to him. We won’t know that until Lord Elrond broaches the subject with him.”

“I understand. I didn’t tell the rest of the Orc Spawn, but I’ll tell you. That fancy coat of mine’s got two good daggers in it, and my boots have another pair. In case.”

“A wise precaution.”

“Just one other thing...”

“Yes?” Gandalf drawled in that long tone that was so distinctive.

“When we get to the forest... I felt very sick when I was inside it before.”

“That’s because it is a very sick forest.”

“Yes, sir. So... don’t let me go off the path this time. I don’t want to be hauled before King Bloody Thranduil reeling like a drunkard with my head full of mushroom spores. All right?”

Gandalf smiled as he leaned on his staff to regard me. “I will keep you on the path, Kíli. It will be up to you not to reel like a drunkard.”

The wizard headed towards Beorn’s house, leaving me to smile after him. I remember Bilbo telling me what the wizard had told him just before we’d ventured into Mirkwood, when Bilbo said our adventures thus far had helped him find his courage.

“Good. You need it,” Gandalf had said without an ounce of sympathy, widening his eyes for emphasis. I’d snickered then, but now I understood what Gandalf had meant – he’d do his part, but it was up to the rest of us to keep ourselves from acting like damned fools. Even a wizard couldn’t guard against that.

The next morning, the company packed our tents, loaded our baggage, and set our horses aright. It was time to bid Beorn goodbye, and all of us hated to do so. He’d been more than generous to keep us all in his sanctuary, and he was more so now, packing our food sacks with good bread, wholesome fruits and vegetables, and combs of amber honey coated in beeswax to keep it intact. I’d packed most of my things last night, and now I took one more walk around to say goodbye. Tauriel and Míriel were with me as we waved farewell to the bees, patted the giant sheep in the stable, and revisited a certain protected nest overlooking the wildflowers. When we turned back to the house, Beorn stood watching us, smiling as we came up to him.

“I’ll miss this place, and you, very much,” I said. “Thank you for hosting us, even if I am a Dwarf. I’d like to come back one day and see you again.”

“I forgive you for being a Dwarf,” Beorn grinned, picking Míriel out of Tauriel’s arms to cup her in his great hands. “You are not a typical Dwarf.”

I bowed, laughing. “I thank you. You are not a typical anything. It’s been my great pleasure to know you.”

“And mine,” Tauriel added, making her own bow. “I will miss this place very much, too.”

“Ban,” chirped Míriel unexpectedly, drawing a silent chuckle from the giant.

“Brave one,” Beorn answered her, bouncing her in his hands until she giggled, then handed her back to Tauriel.

“Last chance about that,” I ventured, pointing to the Orc shackle on Beorn’s left wrist.

Beorn nodded. “I think you are right, Kíli. It would be better gone.”

“Lead me to your tools, then, and it won’t take a moment.”

We headed back to the stable where Beorn kept his anvil and such, and Tauriel looked on with our bairn as I looked at the shackle fastening. I shoved a round of tree stump over to the anvil so I was tall enough to reach it properly, chose a hammer and a chisel, and positioned Beorn’s wrist. In two careful blows the shackle fell open. Beorn slipped his wrist free of the band, flexed it experimentally, and nodded.

“It is good. The man will still remember, and the bear will not miss its bite.”

Beorn took the broken cuff and set it above the anvil with some of his tools, where it would still remind him of evil overcome, but with less gall.

We walked together out into the sunlight, where the rest of the company was making the last adjustments to our baggage. There were no formal goodbyes yet, for Beorn intended to travel with us as far as the edge of the forest, then return home. It was more than forty miles to Mirkwood, so we set out at a good pace, so that we could cover most of the distance today, overnight nearby, and then venture under the trees tomorrow before noon. We didn’t worry about running our horses overmuch today; they’d had a layoff of several days, and we expected that our pace through the forest would be much slower than what we’d achieve today.

Despite leaving the peace of Beorn’s home behind, I was excited to be in the saddle again. I’d endured entirely too much sitting, talking, and thinking from the outset of this adventure, and to enjoy a day of physical exertion was welcome. Tauriel had Míriel for the beginning of our journey, so I raced Trellennan with Giriel and Rhiannel a time or two until the horses wore off their friskiness. Soon enough, we settled to a steady but rapid pace, with Beorn loping easily among us. We traveled swiftly over the nearly flat expanse of grass, seeing no others. At noon, we paused for luncheon only briefly before returning to the saddle. I bore Míriel for this stretch, and sang off and on to her as we ran. The afternoon passed uneventfully, and we made camp in the middle of the grass well before dark. We kept the horses close, on a picket line rather than ranging free, with several Elves to watch over them. Beorn left us for the night, prowling as a bear to ensure that we were not disturbed. In the morning, we were away quickly again to cover the last miles to Mirkwood.

We saw the dark line of trees that marked the beginning of the forest some time before we reached it. I winced. I hoped we didn’t spend as long traversing the forest as I had in Uncle Thorin’s company two years ago. That had been a depressing and hopeless trek on foot, and we’d averaged only about six miles a day. Maybe in the company of Elves and a wizard, and aback horses, we’d make better speed. I owed much to the forest, for it was there I had met my _amrâlimê_... but it was not a place I’d liked in any part.

Before noon, as we’d hoped, we reached the same spot where two years ago Gandalf had left Uncle Thorin’s company to fend for itself. I rode near the wizard as we drew up to the edge of the trees.

“You aren’t going to fly off to parts unknown this time, are you?” I poked at Gandalf. “Take pity on us this time, and stay with us to keep us straight.”

“I will do my best, my boy,” the wizard said in his unperturbed way. “Now, Tauriel, where are you? Ah, there you are. A word with you, if I may.”

“Yes, Gandalf?” my wife drew Jalsin up beside us.

“I believe we can mitigate King Thranduil’s irritation about your presence, once we are in his presence. But I think it would be wise for you to stay as close Lord Elrond and me as you can, so as to deter whoever we meet before we meet the king.”

Tauriel cast me a nervous look. “I will. But if that is necessary, then I do not want to carry Míriel myself in the forest, for her protection.”

“I’ll take her, _amrâlimê_ ,” I said at once.

“I’ll spell you, Kíli,” Giriel said as quickly after, and Rhiannel and Tethrandil added their support. But the maid who headed our guardsmen weighed in.

“We don’t know if Kíli will be targeted as well as Tauriel,” she pointed out. “I recommend that while we are ahorse, one of the Elves carries your babe.”

I looked at Tauriel, not liking it, but with my newfound practice in thinking like a dark lord chess master, I had to admit that our captain was right. I held up my hands in concession. “Whoever does rides with the rest of the elites, then. Míriel’s important.”

“Ta,” Míriel said complacently, as if to say, of course she was an elite. That brought a snicker from several of our company.

“Give me our smallest elite, then,” Giriel said, and I held our bairn while she and Tauriel arranged the carrying basket on Giriel’s back. In the meantime, Lord Elrond and Gandalf were bidding Beorn goodbye. I was too far away to hear what they said, but I was glad that all of the Elves came forward to say their farewells. When my turn came, Beorn stretched out his hand to me, and I grasped it in both of mine and gave him a deep bow from my saddle.

“Goodbye, Beorn. I hope to see you again one day. May you live well, without Orcs, and may your children grow many and strong. And may your land always stay as fair as it is now.”

“Goodbye, Kíli the Dwarf. I wish you success with your treaty. Remember that the more insulting the king of the Woodland Realm becomes, the closer you are to getting him to listen.”

I grinned. “I’ll remember. Thank you again for the bounty of your hospitality.”

In a few moments, all our words of parting had been said. Beorn held up a hand, then turned towards his home. He was soon out of sight, without a look back.

I exhaled, sorry to see the last of the skin changer. Tauriel was beside me, just as regretful. But in time, we all turned from the west, and looked east.

Mirkwood lay before us.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. The King and Prince of the Woodland Realm are in the house! While they chat, our intrepid folk from Imladris make their way through Mirkwood, only to find themselves pondering an engineering challenge. And could Kili be progressing in his understanding of the mercurial king of the forest?
> 
> Hope you enjoy the excitement!

_Legolas rode his horse across the narrow stone bridge that spanned the Forest River and led to the Woodland Realm. The massive entrance gates loomed tall, never failing to impress every delegation that approached the kingdom. High, narrow limestone pillars anchored both sides of the bronze doors, and several guardsmen in their leaf mail and helmets, their faces hidden behind fine mesh veils, made the formal entrance into an exotic, forbidding, eerie place – beautiful, but alien. Legolas didn’t approach the entrance, but cut immediately left without fanfare as soon as he crossed the bridge, aiming for the stable entrance where he could see to his horse. Still, the posture of the guardsmen revealed that they recognized their prince. He sighed. Would the gossip of his unexpected arrival race through the kingdom and reach his father even before he got off his horse?_

_He rode into the stable, dismounting only when he was by Alafel’s stall. He drew the tack off his mount, and put the gelding in his stall to brush and groom him. Even so, a stir of whispers rose as news of his presence spread. He concentrated on caring for his horse, sharing a last few moments with the friend that had been his only reminder of home since he’d left two years ago. When Alafel was clean, dry, and comfortable, he came out of the stall to find his tack had already been swept away, and his personal baggage rested on the bench outside the stall. A groomsman stood by._

_“A full measure of grain, please, and fresh water,” he said, and the groomsman went to fetch the horse’s rations at once. Legolas took up his scant baggage, left the stable, and descended into the limestone cavern that he had not seen since the day after the fight for Erebor._

_Making no secret of his arrival, Legolas paced briskly through the lamp-lit corridors and ceremonial halls, making for the Antlered Throne. It was late morning, and his father would be holding court. Gossip would surely announce him to his father before he could do so in person, but his father would appreciate his effort, all the same. As he approached the throne, one Elf after another murmured acknowledgement to him. Legolas nodded gravely at each one, offering a smile to those who were more than casual acquaintances. Many of the guard offered genuine smiles, and received the same in return. It was good to see friends again._

_The throne was just ahead. His father sat upon the high seat, as resplendent as he always was. The summer crown of green oak leaves sat on his head, and his robes were dark green. A mantle of lighter green lined with sparkling silver silk lay across his shoulders. As he always did, Thranduil carried Needle, the elegant sword that was a fluid stretch of bright forged steel from hilt to point, perforated along its uninterrupted length to reduce weight without sacrificing strength. A party of three Elves stood before him, so Legolas did not interrupt, but merely stood close enough for his father to recognize him. Thranduil’s eyes flickered in response, so Legolas offered him a smile and a bow. Ever the attentive ruler, Thranduil didn’t interrupt his audience with the delegation, but his eyes warmed as he nodded to his son. Legolas backed away, and headed for his quarters. His father would see him as soon as he’d finished with the delegation._

_He’d no more than reached the royal apartments and set down his baggage before the doorman opened the door behind him. As he turned, his father swept in, his silver-lined mantle flaring out behind him. His smile was broad, and his arms were held wide. Legolas smiled as widely, and met his father’s embrace with his own._

_“Did I manage to arrive before the gossip of my return did?” he joked, grinning. He’d missed little about the Woodland Realm, but he had missed his father._

_“Almost,” Thranduil replied with a wry smile, his hands on his son’s shoulders. “You are well?”_

_“I am. And you, father? You look well.”_

_“I am. I have missed you, Legolas. It is very good to see you again.”_

_“I have missed you, too, father. I am most grateful to you for the chance to see you again, and to return home.”_

_Thranduil’s smile turned rueful. “And how soon will the object of your mercy arrive home?”_

_Legolas looked confused. “I don’t understand. I’ve not seen her since I left here. Have you? Or have you heard from her?”_

_Thranduil set the oak leaf crown on a table, and draped the silver-lined mantle over a chair. He turned his own confused look on his son. “I have neither heard or seen her. My impression from your letters was that you had, and sought to have her return with you.”_

_Legolas shook his head as he took off his traveling coat. “I didn’t ask for your mercy towards Tauriel because I expected her to return to our kingdom for some time, father. But one day, when she finds herself alone, she may want to.”_

_Thranduil’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “You know something of her, then?”_

_“Nothing since Erebor. I sought her out to ask her to accompany me. She was in Esgaroth, tending to the wounded Lakemen.”_

_“She refused you?”_

_Legolas smothered affectionate humor at his father’s indignant tone. “The dark Dwarf was with her. They had bonded.”_

_“That is impossible!” Thranduil exclaimed._

_Legolas shook his head. Part of him wished his father was correct, but he smothered that. Wishing didn’t change what had already happened. In any case, he had only himself to blame. The Valar knew how many centuries had passed without him speaking to Tauriel before a Dwarf had. “It is not. I saw them fight Bolg, father. No two would fight for each other as hard as they did, selflessly and without hope of survival, unless they were bonded.”_

_“Both of them are fools several times over.”_

_“You owe a debt to their foolishness, then. If they hadn’t fought as hard as they did against the son of the Pale Orc, then he might have finished me, rather than I him.”_

_Thranduil swallowed, unwilling to agree, but forced to. “Then I do thank them both. But theirs will be a lonely path, if it lasts.”_

_“Theirs will be a lonely path,” Legolas agreed. “One day, the Dwarf will die, and Tauriel will be alone. When that time comes, I thought it would be cruel to deny her what succor she might find in the realm where she was born. After all, we both know what such loneliness is.”_

_Thranduil looked away, shutting his eyes. After a millennium, he still couldn’t bring himself to speak of the loss of his wife, even to ease his son._

_“He is mortal,” he said heavily. “She knew the risks – no, the surety of his loss.”_

_“We are immortal, and yet we both are bereft. We have no surety against loss.”_

_The sadness in Legolas’s voice brought Thranduil around. He swallowed hard, but took his son’s shoulders in his grasp._

_“There is little surety anywhere,” Thranduil admitted. “Other than how glad I am to see you. Come; let us put aside regret for now. I have lifted the ban on our wayward captain of the guard, and you are home. Nothing could please me more. Share the noon meal with me, Legolas, and tell me of your travels.”_

_Legolas smiled. “I would like that very much, father.”_

 

* * *

 

I would have been lying to say that I followed Gandalf into Mirkwood without apprehension. I was not concerned about the forest’s sickness that so worried Kíli. Rather than mushroom spores, treacherous bogs, and giant spiders, I was more apprehensive about my own thoughts. Such a roiling mess they were! As Gandalf and I led the way under the trees, as the sun dimmed, I felt the reality of the past two years of my life slip away, returning me to the bare existence I’d lived before Kíli had arrived. Add to that the punishment that might befall me for defying King Thranduil’s banishment, and I was not surprised when my heart sped up, and my hands grew damp. Kíli was farther back in the line of our company, but I turned to look at him nevertheless. He met my gaze with a smile, put his hand over his heart, and then held it out to me. I repeated the gesture, and felt a little better.

Gandalf and I set a brisk pace for this first part of our journey. We had over one hundred and fifty miles to go, which would take us several days. In the depths of the forest, we would be forced to slow as the path narrowed, but for now, the path was enough for three of us to ride abreast. Gandalf rode to my left, and a guardsman rode to my right. Another pair rode before us. Behind us, Lord Elrond, Kíli, and Giriel bearing Míriel rode with guardsmen in front, beside, and behind them, as protected as our guardsmen could provide. I hoped that we could cover between fifteen and twenty miles a day at first, but I was still thinking about how to safely cross the Enchanted River that would cross our path about a hundred miles from this point. If Kíli could keep his head against the poisonous atmosphere of the forest, his engineering skills would be welcome so that we could ferry the horses safely across, as well as ourselves.

As we plunged into Mirkwood, the light of the sun slowly diminished until it seemed like twilight, and the breeze died to nothing. The forest was silent for the most part, though that would change at nightfall. Our company was silent and watchful as the Elves adjusted to this new environment, so the only sound was the fall of our horse’s hooves. Given that Elvish mounts are fleet and light on their feet, I did not expect our passage to be noted unless we had the misfortune to come directly upon something, be that spiders or Elves. I forced myself to relax, if only not to convey my nervousness to Jalsin.

For now, I had little to do, for Gandalf directed us surely and swiftly, so I made a point to keep watch on the trees. I had told my comrades of the Woodland Elves’ skill in the branches, and of course several of them were veterans of the classes I had taught in Imladris, where we practiced those same skills in our forests. I had been thorough in my description of conditions in Mirkwood, as well, but as is the case with any imparted knowledge, it is one thing to hear it, and another to live it. Fortunately, our passage was uneventful, which gave our company an easy time to translate my words into understanding of what we experienced.

We made good time our first day, covering more distance than I’d expected. We camped in a clearing small enough that our tents were cheek by jowl. Kíli, Giriel, Rhiannel, and I were used to keeping a cold camp as we had during our journey to Thorin’s Halls in the spring, so we helped the rest see to the necessities before what little light there was faded. Before we set our watch, I reminded the company of the night noises that would soon be upon us. I expected to be on the perimeter tonight, just to refamiliarize myself with the night noises, and to confirm to my comrades whether all was well or not.

A few minutes remained to us before what little light shone through the trees faded completely, so all but those already on the perimeter sat beside our tents to share a cold supper. We murmured among ourselves, sharing impressions of the forest for the most part, but Kíli had another topic to pursue. He sat down beside Lord Elrond and Gandalf with a puzzled look, so I gathered up Míriel and went to join him.

“Lord Elrond, I’ve been thinking, and I wondered if you could help me finish the thought.”

The high lord gave Kíli his full attention as he chewed his bread and cheese. “Of course, Kíli. What topic so occupies you?”

Kíli swallowed his mouthful. “All this studying to be an ambassador. Tethrandil tells me to think like I’m playing chess, and so I try to do. But what makes more sense to me is to think like I’m hunting. I know a lot more about that than I do chess, but it seems that the goals are similar. You’re a much better chess player than I am, so you can tell me if that’s so.”

Lord Elrond nodded. “That is a fair assessment. They are similar in many ways.”

“Oh, good,” Kíli smiled in relief. “So I’ve been thinking about how chess games and hunts start. My mother liked a very aggressive start to her games.”

Laughing, the high lord nodded. “So she did. Followed with an equally aggressive rest of the game, too.”

“Like a wolf that knows it’s being pursued,” Kíli nodded. “When it turns to face the hunter, that’s like the start of _Maamr’s_ chess game. The wolf puffs up its fur and growls and tries to seem as formidable as it can, to make the hunter back down.”

Lord Elrond nodded, understanding Kíli’s analogy. “And how does this help you to be an ambassador?”

Kíli paused to collect his thoughts. He looked so serious that Gandalf and Lord Elrond exchanged glances. He put his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands. “I don’t know that it helps me be an ambassador, exactly. But it made me think... about King Thranduil.”

He glanced up to see the three of us gazing at him with expectant looks, but he didn’t flinch under our regard, and pressed on. “I remember going through the gates to his kingdom. Quite impressive, they were – massive bronze things, very tall and forbidding, very strong, and they moved so silently, without anyone seeming to move them, like magic. The guards before them wore armor unlike any I’d ever seen before – now I know it was leaf mail – and their faces were covered, so they looked stern and mysterious. And his throne room was overwhelming. It scared me as a prisoner, and I’d think anyone coming to do business with the king would be just as intimidated, if not as scared as I was. He sat up high above everyone else, in these clothes that make him look like a Valar, beautiful as well as deadly. So he’s making the same aggressive start as my mother, isn’t he?”

Lord Elrond nodded. “So it seems.”

“But behind that... Tauriel told me that Thranduil became king when his father died in battle, as well as three quarters of his warriors. He’d lost his wife to Orcs, too. He had so much taken from him, and somehow he had to keep what was left of his kingdom safe. So I wondered if all the glamour and magnificence and ceremony aren’t as much because the king’s a snot, but because he wants folk to be so awed that they never consider crossing him, which saves his kingdom. They back down, just like the hunter who doesn’t want to face the posturing wolf, don’t they?”

No one spoke, drawing Kíli to shrug in that fashion he was wont to use when he didn’t want me to think something wasn’t important to him. “Ah. All of you already knew that, then.”

I had never considered King Thranduil’s approach to be anything but an expression of his ego, but suddenly, a Dwarf’s words made him seem much less arrogant. Gandalf nodded approvingly. Lord Elrond settled his full regard on Kíli.

“It is an astute observation you make, Kíli, and speaks well for the success of your education. Have you thought past that observation?”

“I have, my lord,” Kíli nodded. “It made me understand that there’s no point in antagonizing him, no matter how snotty he acts. At heart, he cares about his kingdom, his folk. Antagonizing him will just set him more firmly against me. I’d do better to convince him that I’m not an enemy, not even an opponent across the chessboard, but an ally to help his kingdom. We talked about telling Thranduil that if he makes a treaty, it’ll reduce his annoyance. Tauriel says he hates to be annoyed. But he gets annoyed because he hates feeling insecure about his kingdom. So I think I should talk more about how easier passage for the Dwarves enhances his security. That security is what’s in this treaty for him.”

“I think,” Lord Elrond replied, “that you have learned a great deal about how to be a good ambassador. You approach is sound, and I will be pleased to support it.”

“As will I,” Gandalf agreed. “But you may be hard pressed to keep this noble approach foremost in your mind when we meet the king, Kíli. I do not think he will come easily to the table no matter how carefully you try to approach him.”

“I’m mortal, he’s not, and there you are,” Kíli sighed, spreading his hands. “Plus I gave him a word or two when I was in his _Glawar-galad_. And I married his captain of the guards. And we have a bairn. He’ll likely have a few things to say about all of that.” Kíli paused, then snickered. “Beorn gave me some good advice, Gandalf. He said that more insulting the king got, the closer I was to getting him to see reason. So instead of getting mad if he calls me a _kurvanog shakutarbik_ , I should take heart. And if he calls me a _nar thos_ _zanbaur, undur kurv, zabraz klaf_ _shemator kautar_ , I’m almost home free.”

Gandalf chuckled, and Lord Elrond’s eyebrows rose. “I dare not ask what any of that means, but I applaud the gist of your argument.”

“So if I want to talk about how the Dwarves’ passage addresses the security of the Woodland Realm, I was thinking...”

We talked about this until the light had fully left the forest, and we were hardly able to see one another against the trees. Kíli and I bid the others goodnight, and we took Míriel to our tent, where Rhiannel, Giriel, and Tethrandil were already arranging themselves for the night. Kíli noted their presence, but didn’t say anything; he’d likely divined that someone would watch over his sleep at night given the close quarters of the forest. I lay beside him with Míriel, as was my habit.

“No mushroom spores so far,” he murmured in a hopeful tone as he pulled up his blanket.

“They won’t bother us for several more days, I’d think,” I agreed, as Míriel held her doll out to her father with a questioning burble.

Kíli took the doll and made it dance for Míriel, though it was so dark that I doubted that she saw it, and grabbed for it by sound. “I hope not. I hope this passage will continue to be as fast as it was today. Though we have that strange river to cross.”

“Not for some days. We will consider it soon enough. For now, rest, so that we will continue to make good time tomorrow.”

Kíli hummed acknowledgement. “If it helps, Tauriel, as I’m the only one who needs to sleep, if we need to travel longer hours, I’ll manage.”

“The lack of light will limit our progress far more than your need for sleep will, _a’maelamin_. Do not worry about delaying us. Rest now.”

His hand snuck out to take mine. “ _Amrâlimê_.”

It was too dark to see Kíli close his eyes, but I listened to his breath deepen, and his fingers on mine grew slack. I took up Míriel, and went outside to walk the perimeter. When I found all to be calm and quiet, I went back to the center of our tents where I put Míriel’s pad down and let her crawl and play with her toys as she hadn’t be able to in her carrying basket all day. That kept her quietly happy for an hour or two, then she was ready to retire to her bag of clothing where I made her a soft nest. Again I walked the perimeter, and found all quiet.

Would that this quiet became the rule of our journey rather than the exception.

 

* * *

 

The next several days went well. With Gandalf and Tauriel to keep our path straight, and our tall Elvish horses to speed our way on that path, we made excellent time, each day covering close to three times the distance we had in Uncle Thorin’s company. Even when we came to the deepest part of the forest, rife with the mushrooms and molds that had so dizzied me during my first passage, we still covered a good twelve miles a day. The Elves didn’t seem to be as affected as I was by the spores and miasmic odors that emanated from the boggy sections of the spongy forest floor. I felt the same suffocating sense of breathlessness as I had before, but I had Elves to take Trellennan’s reins and guide me safely forward.

In five days, we’d crossed the first hundred miles, which was stunning progress, to my mind. We came to the Enchanted River, which presented an interesting problem. In our previous trip, we’d found a boat that let us ferry ourselves over the river more or less safely, though Bombur had taken enough of a wetting that we’d had to carry his great sleeping hulk for three days before he’d awakened. We didn’t come upon the river at exactly the same spot, so there was no boat. Even if there had been, it wouldn’t have helped us take our horses safely across. So we traveled north along the riverbank for some miles, looking for a place that seemed to offer a safe place to cross. The water in the riverbed was black, nearly opaque, like ink, and offered no clue to how deep it lay. The surface seemed motionless, without current, too, but it rippled from time to time as if something odd swam just below the surface.

“If an Elvish horse tried to cross the water, would it fall asleep like Bombur did?” I asked Tauriel, as we led our horses through the sparse underbrush. Usually thickets grew lushly along the banks of a waterway, but not along this one. It seemed that even plants had no love of whatever enchantment lay upon the inky water.

“The water offers its forgetfulness to any creature of the land,” Tauriel confirmed.

“Oh. And whatever creatures are in the water are doubtless nothing we want to meet,” I surmised.

Tauriel shook her head emphatically. “Grey eels with mouths full of teeth, and muck swimmers equally armed. Snakes and leeches no more pleasant.”

I shuddered. Leeches were creatures I couldn’t abide. I wasn’t much fonder of snakes and eels. There was something about the soft, seemingly boneless undulation of such creatures that unnerved me, just as spiders unnerved many folks, if not me. “Does a horse fall asleep just by putting a hoof in it, or does it have to wade in deep enough to swim?”

“I do not think an incidental touch of a hoof is enough to bring on sleep, but we should not test that too severely.”

“So what are we looking for to get us across?”

“Either one of the big trees fallen across the river, or enough branches to provide us the means to make a bridge or a raft. If we find the latter, can you help to build what we need?”

“Of course. Though we’ll have to be careful. Most of the deadwood is so wet it’s nothing but punk, and we’ll need a lot of it to support even one of our horses.”

A light spot gaped ahead of us, so unusual – and so welcome – that the company slowed to revel in the rare bright beams of sunlight streaming down to the damp forest floor. I even felt a slight breath of air stirring – such a relief! An immense oak tree, probably hundreds of years old, had rotted away from the roots some decades ago. Until recently, it had hung suspended over the leaf litter, held in place by strangling vines and the closeness of its neighboring oaks. At long last, the supports had let go, and the behemoth had crashed down, clearing a wide swath in its falling. It must have happened only a few weeks ago, as few new plants had begun to stretch up to take its place. Consequently, the surrounding ground had dried somewhat. Even better, the branches of the dead tree had been drenched in the sun for so long that they were dry and free of the punk that plagued so much of the rest of the forest wrack.

“We could make a stout raft out of this,” I said. “The wood’s dry, and there’s certainly enough of it to make a raft big enough to ferry one or two horses at a time. How wide is the river here?”

Our captain of the guardsmen and a pair of her warriors moved off to survey the river. While they assessed the riverbed, I cleared a place in the dirt of leaf litter so I could draw what I thought would work for us. It was a simple device – a flat ferry platform, roped to a guideline to keep it aligned properly for the crossing. One could pole the ferry across, or pull on the guideline to move it across. Once we got a horse or two across, we could use them to draw the ferry across faster than we could.

“The river’s just some twenty feet across at this point,” one of the guardsmen came back to report. “We’re probing it now to see how deep it is.”

“Look for anything that might snag a raft, too,” I asked. “If there is anything, see if we can rope it and pull it out of the way.”

The guardsman waved acknowledgement and took a pair of his mates back with him. Lord Elrond directed the rest to set our perimeter guard, just as a matter of course. Meanwhile, I got out my axe, as did some of the guard, and we set to chopping branches off the oak. Others carried the branches away to lay them out in the rough shape that I’d drawn. Lindir took charge of Míriel so that Tauriel could find a path in the treetops to cross the river. Given that this effort would take some time, Tethrandil and Rhiannel collected rope, for we would need quite a lot of it to string a guideline across the river, tie the raft together, and anchor the raft to the guideline. Gandalf took it upon himself to set out food, given that it would soon be time for supper.

“Kíli, come look at the place we’ve chosen for the raft to cross,” Rhiannel called, when I’d finished freeing a limb from the trunk.

“Be right there, Rhiannel,” I called back, hefting my axe and trotting over to my friend. I stepped carefully so as not to venture into the water until we had the crossing made. I expected to be the one to guide the raft across at least the first couple of times until I sorted out the best configuration of ropes and pulling, and likely my feet would get wet. I didn’t want to be the one hauled across the rest of our journey while asleep and dreaming of feasts like Bombur had.

“From here to that big tree,” Rhiannel pointed. “That would give us a firm anchoring point.”

“Agreed,” I replied.

“Tauriel, Giriel, and I are about to take a line across,” he continued. That made sense; Tauriel was comfortable in this forest and an expert among the trees, and her two best students would be beside her to make sure that all got across safely. “The guard is working to free the water of a pair of snags, then the channel should be clear.”

I got a handful of bread and dried meat to chew as I watched the guard ready their ropes to drag the snags out of the way. Tauriel was already aloft, and Rhiannel passed her the pulling rope to loop over the first snag. Giriel was with her, holding the rope free of the tree branches. When Tauriel dropped the pulling rope over the protruding bit of branch, Giriel helped her ease the rope snug, then waved to Rhiannel. He held a rope loosely tied to the pulling rope to keep it out of the water while the guard worked on the snag.

“Ready!” the pulling crew signaled, and all but the perimeter guard gathered to watch the snag tugged free. The rope drew taut, and as the guard pulled, the snag rocked and bobbed in the dark water. It was over the middle of the stream, but it came easily towards shore for several feet before getting stuck on something. I swallowed my snack and found a place on the rope to help pull, but it took several more of us to pile on, even Lord Elrond and Gandalf, before we finally made progress. It was a larger limb than we’d realized, and full of branches that had stuck on the river bottom. We gave it several more forceful heaves before it had finally snapped with a loud splintering crunch, which allowed us to bring most of it onto the bank. Giriel, Tauriel, and Rhiannel fed the ropes back across the river so that others could drag the limb out of the way without having to touch it. Everyone was leery of the water, but the blackened, decayed sliminess of the wood put anyone off touching it, too.

The second snag was closer to the far bank. The guard put on their riding gauntlets to untie the rope from the first snag, then we sent it back up to our three tree climbers to place it on the second snag. This time, Giriel would be the one to rope the snag, with Tauriel backing her. The tree branches were sparser and thinner here, and I worried that they wouldn’t hold even the light weight of the Elf maids. But even as I had the thought, Tauriel asked for more rope to rig safe lines for them both before Giriel ventured over the snag.

The Elf maid had no trouble looping the rope over the snag. She and Tauriel tightened the rope, Rhiannel fed the rope down to the guardsmen, and we set to pulling. Unlike the first snag, however, this one didn’t budge, no matter how hard we pulled.

“Do you think it would come free if we pulled from the other bank?” Tethrandil called up to the Elves in the trees.

“I think it would,” Tauriel called back. “It’s pointing towards the far bank, and given that the first one ended up being pointed that way, too, it might be much easier from there.”

All of the Elves who felt comfortable in the trees scampered up. Tauriel was the lightest of us, so she stayed above the snag while Giriel and Rhiannel guided the ten guardsmen who ventured across. In time, we had ten on the other side, Giriel and Tauriel above the snag, and Rhiannel guiding the rope down to the pullers. As I was not tall enough to reach between some of the branches above the river, I remained on the west side with Gandalf, Lord Elrond, Lindir with Míriel, and the perimeter guard.

“Ready!” came the call, and the pullers set to. Indeed, the snag moved halfway to shore with the first tug, but then stopped dead. The crew pulled harder several times without effect. So Rhiannel climbed down from the tree to lend a hand, and one more of the guard climbed after him. The pull they gave this time was an epic one –

The log came flying out of the water right at the pullers, who scattered out of the way in every direction. What came after the log, however, erupted straight up, a mass of articulated legs and slithering bits that would have made my skin crawl if I’d hadn’t been so panicked about those bits leaping right at Giriel and Tauriel. Both maids leaped aside, trusting to their safe ropes, and mercifully Tauriel got her arms wrapped around a branch out of the way. Giriel, however, found no convenient branches in her path, so as the monster splashed back into the river, she swung behind and over it. Long antennae flicked against her legs, and the thing lunged up again with a rattle of legs and mouth parts to reach for her, but our howls had drawn the perimeter guards, who scrambled to send a volley of arrows at it. Most of the arrows rattled harmlessly off the mottled plates protecting its back, but the sensation didn’t please it. It flinched as it fell back, then slithered downstream in a boil of black water.

“Are you all right?” I shouted up after Tauriel and Giriel. “Tauriel? Giriel?”

Giriel’s reply was Orcish and obscene, which drew my smile once I was sure she was well. Tauriel clambered atop her branch, and she and Rhiannel fed the pulling rope over to Giriel dangling on her line to draw her to a branch.

“I agree with Giriel, whatever she said,” Tauriel called down to me, her smile a bit shaky.

“What was that?” Lindir asked, still gulping at the nasty surprise. Míriel patted his cheek and offered an unhappy burble of agreement, receiving an unconscious pat from Lindir in return.

Tauriel and Giriel reached the western bank safely. “I think it was a river shrimp,” Tauriel replied, giving Giriel a hand down to the shore before following behind.

“A _shrimp_?” I repeated incredulously. “That thing, kin to a tiny prawn? You joke.”

Tauriel shrugged, agreeing with my disbelief. “I have never seen one nearly so big. A few inches, yes, but that one was as long as I am tall.”

Giriel shuddered. “Ugh, for a moment I thought I was about to be prawn stuffing. I don’t think I’ll ever eat another prawn again.”

“I think you should, if only to repay the scare you’ve had,” Rhiannel grinned, hugging his _amrâlimê_ , relieved that she was safe despite his joke.

“I’ll consider it in several months,” Giriel avowed. She looked towards the river and shuddered. “ _Skator-u poshak dagul_!”

“To hell with the devil shrimp,” I translated loosely when Tauriel looked at me.

My wife rubbed her arms briskly, as if against a chill. “ _Skator-u poshak dagul_ , indeed,” she agreed.

It was getting dark, so we did a little more chopping of branches in preparation for tomorrow’s effort to get our horses across the river. We hung the rope up to dry, ate our supper, and set up our tents away from the river, and not in the clearing. Tauriel’s experience said that clearings often attracted huge bats, so we hunkered down on the edge of the clearing farthest from the river. I hoped that the so-called river shrimp couldn’t climb out of the water, but I preferred not to find out.

We settled quickly, eager to start our work tomorrow. It would take time to build a raft stable enough to support our horses away from the water, and we had thirty-five horses to ferry across. If we managed it all in one day, I’d be pleased. If we managed it without mishap, I’d be even more grateful.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Our company is about to find out that Mirkwood's reputation as a nasty, creepy, slithery, terrifying place is richly deserved. And there's an enchanted river that's no joy, either.
> 
> It's going to be a long, long day.
> 
> It's too much to ask you to enjoy the slime, but I hope you can commiserate with our intrepid band!

_The Prince of the Realm might be back in fact as well as rumor, but there were perilous few details to illuminate that bare fact. Finlor had exhausted his contacts trying to ferret out more, but no one had any real information. Oh, the usual gossip gatherings had generated wild stories by the dozens, from Legolas wandering the forest alone, to Sailing, to setting up a princely residence in the ruins of Dol Guldur – that last one had been so wild, so laughable, so impossible that Finlor shook his head at both the imagination and gullibility of Elves. And of course there was the usual talk of Imladris, Lothlórien, Mithlond – the three Elvish enclaves outside of the Woodland Realm. Not one of the stories was worthy of consideration._

_With a sigh, Finlor considered his personal jewelry box. Mithril, of course, with inner mithril fittings to keep his two most powerful rings from emanating, either to affect each other or to attract attention from the few adept within the cavern. Before he opened the box, he needed to decide which one would better aid his quest for information._

_Would it be the deep emerald cabochon, to enhance his trustworthiness in the eyes of others?_

_Or would it be the amethyst flower ring, to project calming and harmony in others while enhancing his intuition?_

_Of course, both worked well with the orange serpent of protection, a pendant carved of sardonyx and orange chalcedony that he always wore under his robes. That was the bedrock of his protection, whether of his possessions or his self-control. It also warded him against violence; boosted his power, resolve, and energy; and kept the adept from sensing his rings while he wore them._

_He wasn’t sure why he felt such a need to learn about the Prince’s activities. Even if Legolas had been in Lothlórien, there was no chance that he’d had anything to do with the necklace. Finlor suspected the necklace hadn’t been in that realm for a thousand years. But he’d learned over time to pay heed to his urges about matters of power. Those urges had rarely steered him wrong._

_The Elf maid to whom he’d sent the necklace... what had her name been? Oh, no matter. Whatever her name, he seemed to recall that she’d been a visitor to Lothlórien from Imladris. If she hadn’t died under the influence of the necklace, she might have returned there. What if the Prince had traveled there? That would offer interesting possibilities._

_Still, it was unlikely that either his urges or his speculations would lead him to the necklace... but they might lead him to something even more intriguing._

_Finlor opened the box, slipped both of his most potent rings on his fingers, and closed the box. He arranged his robes precisely, and let himself out of his chambers. It was time to hunt._

_* * *_

Not long before dawn, I cast yet another look up at the open sky above the forest clearing. Clouds scudded erratically from the northwest, heavy enough that they’d drop their moisture on us sometime during the day. As sodden as the forest was already, rain would turn the ground into a quagmire, and make our work to build a ferry across the Enchanted River all the harder.

Lord Elrond came to stand beside me, looking up to follow my gaze. “Not the view to inspire this morn.”

“No, it is not,” I agreed, rubbing Míriel’s back. She cooed and held her hand out to the high lord, who smiled as he gave her his fingers to grab. “With your permission, my lord, I’ll rouse Kíli and get the guardsmen busy. I don’t know how long we’ll have before the rain falls, but everything will be twice as hard in the mud.”

“Agreed.” Lord Elrond turned to Gandalf, who joined us. “Would that we had a wizard with us who was adept at holding off the weather.”

Gandalf sniffed at Lord Elrond’s teasing tone. “Would that we had a score of golden swans to spread their wings over our efforts to shield us from the rain, or perhaps we can persuade the creature so intent on our Elf maids for its supper to ferry us across before the rain fell.”

“Are you such a great wizard that you can do either of those two things, mellon nin?” Lord Elrond asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

Gandalf looked so disgruntled that I dared not laugh. “I’ll wake Kíli,” I said quickly, and retreated before the wizard found a suitable reply to Lord Elrond’s teasing. I had no doubt that it would rival something Kíli might say in Orcish when he was annoyed.

Kíli still slept soundly when I ducked into the tent. Tethrandil was by the door, keeping watch as we had agreed, not because we thought it was necessary in the forest, but it would certainly be when we got to the Woodland Realm. He looked up as I entered.

“We will likely be honored with a downpour before the day is out,” I said quietly to Tethrandil’s silent query. “I’ll wake Kíli so we can do as much as we can before the rain starts.”

I put Míriel down beside Kíli and put my hand on his shoulder. “ _A’maelamin_?”

Kíli opened his eyes, smiling when he saw me. “Tauriel. Is it morn already?”

“Only by moments,” I smiled back. “But the sky is overcast, and rain is coming.”

“So we need to get as much done before the forest turns into a mud pit,” Kíli finished, sitting up. “Hullo, Miri! How are you, little jewel? Ready to ride the river shrimp across the black water?”

“Oh, Kíli! How can you joke about such a thing?” I shuddered. “That creature tried to eat Giriel!”

Kíli stood up, taking Míriel’s hands when she held them up to him, drawing her up in her favorite game that Kíli had dubbed Bounce the Bairn. “It was a great fright, to be sure. I hope it didn’t decide to settle in the nice, deep hole we made for it by pulling out the snags.”

I gulped. “I hadn’t thought of that. Oh, Valar. I will be glad when this is crossing is over.”

Kíli looked at me wryly as he drew Míriel up again. “Are you sure we have to cross this river, _amrâlimê_? Can’t we just follow it up to the Forest River, and cross that? That one’s not enchanted, and our horses could swim across it.”

“The Forest River’s much too tumultuous to cross. Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know that because you didn’t drift down in the barrels with the rest of your uncle’s company. It’s nothing but rapids, even above the cavern. The only bridge is the one you crossed when we brought your uncle’s company into the cavern, and it’s on the other side of the Enchanted River, so...”

“So that’s why we have to ford the Enchanted River,” Kíli finished with a resigned exhale. He lowered Míriel until her feet just touched the tent floor. Míriel kicked, liking this new game. But as Kíli considered the river, he let Míriel stand. She, of course, did not see fit to wait for Kíli to bounce her again, but stamped her feet up and down. Kíli looked down at her, then at me, a wide, gleeful grin on his face.

“Look, Tauriel! Miri’s trying to walk. Come on, little jewel! Let’s walk to Uncle Teth! Here we go!”

“Míriel, how tall you are now!” Tethrandil turned to look at our babe. He pointed to Míriel’s doll, which I scooped up and tossed to him. Tethrandil got the doll in hand, making it walk back and forth like Míriel, encouraging her to come closer. “Come, Miri! Come dance with your doll, little one.”

Míriel tottered towards Tethrandil as Kíli leaned her from side to side, excited as all three of us cheered her on. When she reached our friend, he touched her doll to her nose, laughing at her joyful burbling.

“You sound like you’re ready for your own bairn, Teth,” Kíli teased.

“Perhaps one day,” he grinned back, waving the doll at Míriel, drawing Kíli to roll his eyes.

“Oh, when an Elf says perhaps one day, he really means perhaps one century. Or maybe two.”

“Likely,” Tethrandil said, unperturbed. “Come, Míriel. We must put aside walking for now so that we can build our ferry before the rains come.”

Kíli handed Míriel off to me so he could grab his axe. Surprisingly, he grabbed his bow and quiver, as well. “In case that wee prawn comes back,” he explained, indicating his bow. “I’ll dash to the necessary, get a bite, and then I’ll be ready.”

Kíli and Tethrandil headed off to the edge of the woods. Just as we had done on our trip to the Blue Mountains, we never let one of our company go anywhere alone, even to attend to the most basic of necessities. On that trip, we’d been wary of ambushing Orcs. On this trip, we didn’t know what to be wary of – yesterday’s encounter with the immense river shrimp had proved that. So we were doubly careful.

It would be good practice for how careful I expected we’d have to be in King Thranduil’s limestone cavern. There was a place just as full of hidden hazards as the forest of Mirkwood.

In short order, Kíli and Tethrandil had their breakfasts in hand and joined the group gathering to start the day’s efforts. Kíli was not the only one to bring his bow and quiver to the gathering; the guardsmen all had theirs nearby, as well, in case the river decided to offer us new surprises.

As we began to discuss what to do first, it was clear that Kíli had the most practical skills for this effort, thanks to his years of journeying in so many capacities. So it was my husband who set the tasks for our day’s efforts. Given the impending rain, we set the minimum perimeter guard we thought prudent, and everyone else mustered to the task but for Gandalf. Someone had to look after Míriel, and he volunteered for that. He did not look displeased, and given the mess we were sure to get into before the day ended, I didn’t blame him.

Giriel, Rhiannel, and I led the effort to string the guideline that would keep our raft straight. In light of Kíli’s comment about the river shrimp settling back into the deep hole we’d made yesterday, we had several Elves on both sides of the river probing the depths with long branches, both to dislodge any creatures as well as to gauge the depth of the water. Kíli guided those who would make the raft, and soon all axes in the company were ringing as their wielders added to the pile of dry wood. Even Lord Elrond and Helmia, the captain of our guard, stripped to their undertunics as they wrestled the heavier logs that would form the raft’s platform.

Rhiannel hung above the river, well tethered with safe ropes as he helped to position the guideline, when he called to us in the trees as well as to the guardsmen probing the water. “Ware the water! There, on the east bank, that ripple!”

Indeed, something large lurked under the water, and everyone converged on where Rhiannel pointed. As the branches probed, the water churned, and many of us caught glimpse of the same articulated legs as we’d seen yesterday. Kíli grabbed his bow.

“Drive it downstream!” Kíli yelled, snatching up his bow and nocking an arrow. “We can try to block it from coming back upstream with the poles!”

Three of the guards thrust in long branches to push the river shrimp downstream, but one staggered as the creature seized on the branch to yank it into the water. The Elf threw himself backwards, and the two nearest grabbed him to help keep him on the riverbank. The thing erupted from the water, coming halfway onto the bank after the trio. Kíli ran forward with many of the Elves to shoot at it. Kíli sent his shaft right into the middle of the flailing mouthparts, and other arrows targeted the spaces between the armored plates. The immense shrimp made a horrible chittering noise as it tried to drag itself back into the water. It got halfway back before a bigger shrimp appeared out of the water to grab it. They fell back into the water, leaving us with nothing but oily black water roiling and foaming. The battle raged for several seconds as the water heaved, and quick glimpses of heavy shell or attenuated legs or whipping antennae flailed out of the water. Eventually the water calmed, and pieces of one or both of the river shrimp floated to the surface.

They didn’t float undisturbed for long. Before we could gather to speculate on whether we saw parts of one shrimp or two, the water stirred as snakes and eels slithered near to feed on the unexpected bounty. Some kind of fish with a mouthful of sharp teeth and no eyes joined the feast, tearing large pieces from the carcass. I turned away, joining Kíli as he wiped sweat from his face.

“As big as those things were, let’s hope the river can’t support many of them, and we’ll have a while before another comes to claim the territory,” he said soberly. “I think Giriel’s right. It’ll be a while before I want to eat another prawn.”

“Agreed,” Rhiannel breathed, joining us. He grimaced at the heaving mass. “Ugh. Rotting Orcs are easier to look at than that.”

Kíli whuffed in grim agreement. “Let’s make the most of the distraction, then, and get back to the raft.”

 

* * *

 

I hefted my axe and set to chopping more of the thickest branches to the length we’d settled on for the raft. I didn’t say anything yet, but I already knew that crossing this cursed river would not be easy or quick. Though the Elves were not skilled laborers, they were wise enough to know that, and so they tended to ask before they did something to make sure it would help rather than hamper our efforts. They were willing, too, and good at working together, which was more than I could say for many crews I’d been on. And of course Tauriel and her students were more than competent in the trees. So we had some things to our advantage. We’d need them to overcome so many liquid disadvantages – poisonous water, nasty creatures in the water, and water about to fall on us from above. Then there was the nature of horses. Even in the best conditions, they were not the easiest creatures to get across a river on a raft.

We didn’t have the means or the time to make a smooth platform for them to stand upon. I planned a layer of larger logs on the bottom for stability, spaced about a foot apart, and running from front to back of the raft. Topping these would be a layer of thinner ones laid tightly crosswise to make as smooth a footing as possible. But that would be heavy, and it had to support a heavy horse as well as several handlers to keep said horse steady and still during the crossing. Moving this collection of raft, horse, and handlers would not be easy. The guideline would give us something to anchor the raft to so it wouldn’t get away from us, but we’d put two ropes at either end so that those on shore could pull it. Given the creatures in the water, I wanted a crossing that was fast, smooth, and quiet. We wouldn’t get a lot of chances to experiment, either, given what happened if anyone fell in the water. So despite the oncoming rain, we had to take care in our construction. I hoped that time spent well there would translate into swift and safe passage.

I drew Lord Elrond, Helmia, and Tauriel close to explain this in a low voice. To their credit, Lord Elrond and Helmia bade me be just as explicit in my assessment to all of our company, so that no one was under any illusion about what faced us, and how important it was to be careful so that we protected our horses. No one complained. In fact, I hadn’t finished speaking before the Elves had begun to braid their long hair into tails and wind them around their heads to keep them out of the way. I did likewise. Off came the armor, too, until all of us were stripped down to undertunics and trews or leggings. We set to again.

As expected, the rain began before noon. I stripped down to boots and trews; there was no point to getting my undertunic filthy in the mud, and the air was warm enough that I didn’t need it for warmth. Before long, the Elvish lads followed suit, and the maids were down to little more only for modesty’s sake. It was telling; most of the time, Elves appeared so fragile in their beautiful clothing, given how tall and slender they were. But stripped down, they were anything but fragile. Their bones were just as long and slender as one expected, and they carried very little body fat, even the maids, which explained why they chilled so easily. Their skin was even paler than mine, and seemed to shine from within, and their muscles were rendered so deeply and clearly that they seemed chiseled from perfect marble. Without question, they were strong, but all of them, even the most scarred guardsman, had the Valar’s regal glamour about them, despite all the mud and rain. The maids all looked as ethereal as Nessa, the Valar known for her graceful dancing and swiftness of foot. If I hadn’t already known, one look told me they were as immortal as they were beautiful and otherworldly.

I grinned to myself. Regardless of what my father was, I still looked like a wet, muddy Dwarf in the rain, and hardly ethereal. Even Fíli, the ridiculously handsome one of us, would have looked little better (and how I wished he were here for me to tease him about it). But I had no complaints. My looks in some small part had won me my wife, so I was more than content with them.

We snatched a few moments’ respite for food before we tried our raft on the water. As hard as I’d worked all morning I was ravenous, and for once the Elves were almost as hungry. We made a deep hole in the mountain of provender we’d brought with us, more than making up for the careful rationing we’d done since entering the forest. The last of Beorn’s honey and fruit went down our throats, and so did a lot of the dried meat that had stood us in such good stead since leaving Imladris. Of more concern was the water, so most of us stinted that a bit. We put out every pan and dish in the clearing to catch the rain, and drank that down with no ill effect.

It was time to see how our raft floated. The platform we’d built with logs and rope was heavy enough that we had to send several Elves across the stream to help get it to the edge of the river. Carefully, we maneuvered it into the water to see how it settled, and I was relieved that it did float evenly. I ventured onto it to attach the anchor ropes to the guideline at fore and aft, despite objections about me being an ambassador, and so on and so forth. I waved them quiet.

“Look, you lot, it was me who said how to build this, wasn’t it? So it’s only right that I put _miz barathar curp_ on the line to test it, isn’t it? We’ll all have our turn on it soon enough.”

“If you fall in the water, Kíli, who’s going to negotiate your _barathar_ treaty with the _barathar_ king?” Giriel retorted, her hands on her hips.

“Just pull me out, and in three days, I _barathar_ well will,” I shot back.

“Then wear a rope so we _can_ pull you out!” all four of my fellow Orc Spawn bellowed, making me grin and everyone else laugh.

“Oh, Valar; give me the rope.” The rope was thrown to me, not very politely, so I stuck my tongue out at Giriel as I tied it on. “There. Satisfied? All right, you lot on the east bank; give it a tug.”

I balanced myself in the middle of the raft as it edged out into the water. So far, it seemed to hold steady. The Elves pulled it all the way across, then back again. I stepped back to shore with secret relief. At least the raft had floated well, the guideline and anchor ropes had worked the way they were supposed to, the pull ropes had held, and not too much water had seeped between the logs given the double layer.

First step, done.

The next step was to try the raft with a horse. We led the calmest packhorse forward, and onto the raft. He was bare of tack but for his halter, and we put five handlers with him, two on each side, and me at his head to hold his attention. This was a heavy load, and needed more Elves on the east bank to pull. But we got the raft afloat, though it rode dangerously low in the water.

“Tell them to pull hard and fast,” I murmured to the Elves around the horse, and they relayed the order to those on the west bank, who relayed it to the Elves on the east bank. At Helmia’s signal, the Elves manning the two pull ropes obeyed instantly. We shot across the water, and I drew the horse off quickly as soon as the front of the raft was on solid footing. Someone took him, and then the five of us got back on the raft for the return trip, jumping to shore quickly. The whole process took about thirty seconds.

“Anything in the water?” I directed up to Rhiannel, who was perched above our raft.

“Not yet.” His tone told me that he didn’t expect that to last any longer than I did.

“Let’s get the next one, then,” I beckoned to the Elf holding the next horse. She came forward willingly enough, and we got her placed well for the Elves to pull us across. Again, we slid across quickly, unloaded the horse, and scooted back across to the western bank. We got another pair across and were about to return to the western side before Rhiannel called down a warning.

“Ware, _otornoa_ ,” the Elf pointed to the back end of the raft. Something that looked like a tentacle probed its way over the edge of the raft. “Oh, Valar,” the Elf beside me gulped, and I agreed.

“Pull us back!” I yelled. “Fast as you can!”

Our comrades complied so fast that all of us on the raft lurched on our feet, but we held each other out of the water. As soon as the raft hit the shore, we stumbled off, looking back to see if whatever the tentacle belonged to had followed us. Sure enough, a pair of tentacles probed the front corner of the raft.

“Do not move the raft,” Helmia put a hand on my arm. "We know where it is, so let us see whether it will decide that the raft is nothing of interest, and so pass on.” She looked up at Rhiannel. “Can you make out how big it is, Rhiannel?”

He shook his head.

“It’s big enough to span the raft,” Tauriel said from beside Rhiannel, pointing to the tentacle that had appeared at the other corner of the raft’s front.

I gulped at that boneless movement that I found so unsettling. We stayed watching to see whether the creature would reveal more of itself, but after just a few seconds, the tentacles fell back into the water. We left the raft alone for several minutes more, hoping that the creature would drift away out of disinterest.

“There is a tentacle there by the next tree downstream,” Rhiannel called. “That is fifteen feet away. Do you think it is another one, or the same one that has moved?”

“Pull the raft across with nothing on it,” Helmia directed, “then pull it right back to this side.”

We did so, and sure enough, the tentacles returned to probe the raft. More of them appeared this time, enough that my skin crawled. A ripple ran through the Elves; they liked this thing no more than I.

“I dislike killing something until I am sure it is a hazard,” Helmia exhaled. “Let us try to rope one of the tentacles and pull it out of the water.”

Given what we’d discovered about Mirkwood’s idea of prawns, I wasn’t too eager to try this. The very idea of something with tentacles was enough to put me off, but I took my place on the rope with everyone else. One of the guardsmen edged onto the raft, stepping carefully so as not to alert the creature. When one of the tentacles probed upward from the wood, he slipped the rope over it, then hastened back to shore. All of us pulled mightily to see what we’d snared.

We’d gotten only part of the thing out of the water before I was certain I didn’t want to see any more of it. The tentacles weren’t limbs, but long feelers like those on a catfish. The mouth of said fish was lined with sawing teeth, but that was not the scariest bit. The thing didn’t have swimming fins so much as walking paddles, and it came slithering over the raft and onto shores with a wide gape of its jaws. It was blind, but it was also six feet long, and able to stumble over the churned mud by the shore on those walking paddles fast enough to make us scatter. The horses didn’t like it either, and six of them bolted away before anyone could grab them. Chaos ensued as the paddlefish went snapping towards the horses, the horses bolted away from the Elves, and the Elves started shooting and hacking at the paddlefish. When finally the paddlefish expired with much savage thrashing, we set off to collect the scattered horses.

This would be the perfect time for Orcs or something else to descend upon us in our disarray, I thought, grabbing my bow and checking the trees around the clearing, but thankfully no such plague descended on us. It was bad enough to deal with the mud, the rain, and the cloud of midges that had come with the mud and the rain.

We still had twenty-nine horses to get across this bloody river.

In time, we got the horses collected, and the dead paddlefish hauled downriver. I suggested heaving only part of it into the water to attract whatever remaining nuisances we hadn’t yet stumbled upon, so we’d be able to dole out new portions as needed. So into the water went an unspeakable churn of dead fish bits, and while the eels and snakes had at that, we got another six horses across.

Twelve down, twenty-three more to go, and only three hours of daylight left. If we didn’t get the rest ferried quickly, we’d be forced to spend the night with split forces, which no one wanted. So we hustled the horses aboard and hauled on the ropes no matter how badly any of us hurt. Giriel, Rhiannel, and Tauriel got a line of Elves roped into the treetops to lug the baggage and tack across the river. Four of the Elves watched downstream to keep the live water creatures supplied with chunks of dead water creature, but as fast as the live ones ate, we’d run out of bits before we’d get all the horses across. So we slowed down the feeding as much as we dared, not tossing in any more until we found crawly bits edging over the edges of the raft as we crossed the water.

When we ran out of fish, we had all the baggage across, and Gandalf and Míriel had crossed safely through the trees. We still, however, had the last three horses to ferry – Trellennan, Jalsin, and Lord Elrond’s stallion, Elspaith. We’d crossed the nervous ones early, to keep them from upsetting the ones left to cross. Tauriel and I both wanted Lord Elrond to take his mount first, and there was no time to dispute among us. The high lord led his stallion onto the raft, we got the four handlers in place, and the pullers hauled away. The raft came back as soon as the stallion stepped off it, and Tauriel drew Jalsin forward. But the mare was skittish from the smell of the dead fish, the roiling water, and the coming darkness, and balked at the bobbing raft.

“Take Trellennan, Kíli,” Tauriel urged, drawing Jalsin away. “I’ll cover her eyes, and take her last. Perhaps hearing the other horses before her will ease her.”

I led Trellennan forward. My steed didn’t like the uneven footing or the close press of the handlers, but I stood at his head, talking quietly to him as we were pulled across. I led him off quickly, handing him to Tethrandil, and jumped onto the raft for its last trip westward trip. I saw the slither of tentacles, then an articulated leg, but said nothing. Tauriel stood alone, sodden, and muddy on the bank holding Jalsin’s halter. One of Míriel’s towels covered the mare's eyes, but she was still nervous. We didn’t have time to calm her further, for all four edges of the raft had things crawling atop them.

“I’m sorry, Jalsin, my girl, but we have to go.” I grabbed the mare’s ear, yanking it down as we urged her forward. All of the remaining Elves crowded around the nervous mare and we shoved her onto the raft. “Pull, and be damned quick about it!” I yelled, as the raft rode so low in the water that something swam over the side and wrapped itself softly around my ankle. My skin slithered into gooseflesh. “By all the Valar, hurry!”

We shot across the cursed water for the last time, and I let go of Jalsin’s ear and shoved her forward for Tauriel and the Elves to hustle her off. I wanted desperately to go after them, but the thing on my ankle held me fast. I yanked out my boot knife and stabbed it, but repeated thrusts didn’t loosen it. In the dimness, I didn’t think anyone saw me struggling.

“Help! Somebody bring a sword and cut me loose!” I shouted. “Something’s got me by the ankle!”

I hadn’t spoken the words before Gandalf was beside me, his sword already drawn, and he sliced me free as neatly as if he’d carved through butter. He sent a ringing invocation after the creature and hauled me ashore as if I weighed no more than Míriel. Wiping the rain and mud out of my eyes, I looked up at him in utter gratitude.

“Oh, blessed Valar,” I breathed, getting to my feet. My hands were wet from the river water, and I wiped them hastily on my pants, though they were wet, too, I hoped from the rain rather than the river. “Thank you, Gandalf.”

“You are most welcome, my boy,” Gandalf smiled through the dimness at me as Tauriel rushed to my side. “It seemed an ignominious end, drowned by means of tentacle. I am most happy to have spared you from it.”

“Not nearly as happy as I am that you did,” I grinned in relief. “Jalsin is well, then?”

Tauriel nodded. “More importantly, you are, too. Thank you, _a’maelamin_.”

She took my shoulders in her hands and touched her forehead with mine. I felt suddenly dizzy, and I grabbed Tauriel’s arms for support.

“I put my hands in the water, and now I’m dizzy,” I mumbled. “Oh, Valar, Tauriel; that damned river just can’t let us go...”

Tauriel called for help, and I found hands easing me to the ground. Hands pulled off my boots, then my soaking trews and smalls – was there not a race in Middle Earth that didn’t find a reason to strip me naked? At least Elves were gentler than Orcs at toweling me dry....

“Kíli, you’re waking up. You’re waking up. Do you hear me, _amrâlimê_?”

I sat up blearily to Tauriel’s concerned face. Around me, several other Elves looked to be in no better straits than I was. Of course they weren’t – they were the other handlers who’d seen Jalsin across. But for Tauriel, all of us had gotten more river water than was good for us.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Less than an hour. I’m so glad you’re awake.”

I harrumphed, trying to make Tauriel’s worry fade. “That’s no good, then, is it? I didn’t dream of a single feast.”

“Oh, Kíli,” Tauriel said, in the tone she used when she wanted me to think I was being silly, when in fact she’d needed my reassurances that I was well.

“I’m sure I can find something in our stores to compensate,” I exhaled, taking her hand to clamber to my feet.

“This miserable forest,” Tauriel growled, looking around us with a glower. “Except for Míriel and Gandalf, all of us are sodden, filthy, and exhausted.”

I grinned. “Truth. But bless the Valar, we’re across that bloody river.”

“Bless the Valar, indeed,” Tauriel shook her head.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Our intrepid band from Imladris crosses the last few miles to set foot upon the grassy courtyard outside the great gates guarding the Woodland Realm. Who do you think will answer the door?
> 
> Hope you enjoy the buildup!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deviated from the Hobbit movies' canon to describe the entrance to the Woodland Realm, and instead used both Tolkien's own description as well as what Karen Wynn Fonstad described in her wonderful book, "The Atlas of Middle Earth." That little dinky bridge and the tiny doormat-sized porch in the movies didn't seem practical to allow the going and coming of eminent folk (or those delivering the milk, either, and how the heck did they get horses to and from the stables? Go through the halls? The servants must have loved that...). So please keep that in mind as you read.

_Once servants laid the table for luncheon, Thranduil gave orders that he and his son were to be left undisturbed until further notice. So the doors to the royal apartments were shut, and father and son stayed at table until late into the afternoon. They began with talk of Legolas’s travels, but quickly forged far afield from there, both of them savoring the rare treat of private, uninterrupted time together. His son was quieter, more somber than he had been two years ago, but also more grounded. Thranduil had missed Legolas’s counsel, but more than his counsel, he’d missed Legolas himself. His son. He looked so much like his mother, which ate at Thranduil as much as the loss of that cherished Elf maid did, but seeing Legolas living and breathing kept the ache at bay, and reminded him that he still had reasons to remain in Middle Earth._

_Legolas finished a joke, and Thranduil laughed with his son. Even if the joke had not been funny, he would have laughed, for it was a pleasure to have his son home again._

_* * *_

 

_Finlor yanked off his rings and nearly threw them in the corner of his room, but quickly suppressed his rage. He found his mithril box, quickly sealed both rings carefully in their spaces, and closed the box. He secreted the box back in its hidden niche. Then he flung off his coat and paced from one end of his salon to the other with savage, swift steps, over and over and over again._

_He hadn’t learned a single thing. Not one single, solitary crumb of information about the prince. Nothing. Nothing!_

_That alone told him that something was afoot. Something had to be afoot if it was cloaked in so much secrecy. Nothing overt was ever so quiet._

_Whether the necklace was part of this secrecy – this conspiracy – or not, such silence was not to be tolerated. He had spent too many decades, centuries, even, cultivating his quiet bounty to give it up. He_ would _find out the truth about this._

_He got out the mithril box again. He replaced both amethyst and emerald rings on his fingers, and put his coat back on. After a quick savage twitch to rearrange his robes, he went back out into the cavern._

 

* * *

 

Our company was safely across the Enchanted River, if disarrayed. All of us were filthy with mud and even sweat, though Elves don’t sweat under most normal conditions; we are so thin that cooling is rarely a problem with us, though staying warm most certainly is. The day’s efforts had been far from normal, and so we were as bedraggled as Kíli – more so, for we’d wiped most of the mud from him when we tried to revive him from the effects of the inky river water. Thank the Valar, he and the four others of our company had recovered in an hour or two, and we helped each other away from the dreadful river soon after.

Most of the Elves chose to wait out the night under the trees rather than foul our tents with the muck that covered us, despite how uncomfortable we were. Kíli, however, needed to sleep, so he put a pallet atop the pile of baggage. We’d rigged a double layer of silk above the pile to divert the rain, so he slept in reasonable comfort. Still, I suspected that onset of his sleep had more to do with exhaustion than comfort.

When he woke in the morning, the rain still fell steadily, but he greeted me with a smile.

“Do you like rain so much that you even welcome it when it soaks your bed?” I asked with a wry smile.

“I stayed quite dry, _amrâlimê_ ,” he assured me, looking up at the canopy. If anything, his smile widened. “I hope it rains a bit longer. Wet or dry, I’m foul beyond ignoring, so I’m going to take soap back to the clearing and have a good scrub, if I can persuade anyone else to go along.”

“You want to go back over that river for a bath?” I gaped at him.

He cast me an incredulous look. “I’m a mess, aren’t I? So much of one that even I’m revolted. I’m not about to sally another fifty miles like this, stinking of fish and mud and Dwarf when I don’t have to. All I need do is stand next to a few of you Elves, and the smell alone will convince one or two of you to go across with me.”

“I’m with you, Kíli!” That, of course, was Giriel. “I’ve got enough mud and tree slime on me to start a brick works!”

“That’s one,” Kíli smiled enticingly. “Can I convince you to make it two, Tauriel?”

“Let us see what state the raft is in, first,” I conceded.

Kíli’s grin was delighted. To look at him, one wouldn’t know he’d almost succumbed to the Enchanted River’s denizens yesterday evening, but that was Kíli. He got soap and his bow from our baggage, he and Giriel recruited Tethrandil and Rhiannel to their cause, and I asked Gandalf, the only clean one among us, to hold Míriel. And so down we went to the river.

The raft lay quietly, and the water was still. Before I thought better of it, I followed my comrades onto the raft, we pulled ourselves across with the guideline, and ventured into the open clearing. As if to reward us for our daring, the clouds sent down their rain in sheets. Kíli stripped and soaped energetically, whistling as he did so, and the rest of us weren’t far behind. Under such a deluge, it took little time to sluice the worst of the grime off, even out of our hair. We slid back across the river without incident, and soon were drying under the silk that had protected Kíli’s pallet. Very little rain seeped through the thick canopy of leaves overhead, so we dressed in reasonable comfort while the rest of the Elves followed our example. I was relieved that the Enchanted River remained quiet as the company restored itself.

By the time all were clean, dressed, combed, and braided, the rain had eased. Some of the Elves returned for one last time to the Enchanted River to retrieve the rope we’d used to make the raft and its guideline. We shared out breakfast as we tended our horses, cleaning hooves and brushing coats and checking harnesses. Before long, the backs of our horses were dry enough to take a saddle. Everyone was relieved to pack up and get underway again. Despite the distance of gloomy forest that still lay before us, I was elated to leave this part of it behind.

We made good time away from the river. We had come to the parts I knew well, and so Gandalf and I led the way without hesitation. I reminded our folk to keep watch for the spider webs that would soon be abundant. The Woodland Realm didn’t often clear the forest this far south of the cavern, so I kept a watchful eye upward. Yes, soon after luncheon, I spotted the first of the webs. I drew our company to a halt only long enough to point to what I had warned them about, and we rode away quickly. Unless the spiders were clustered heavily, they would not attack such a large party. We gave this nest no reason to look our way by passing over the path quickly.

When daylight grew scarce, we didn’t stop, for the night forest was not safe even for a party of our size. I held us to the path until we came to a familiar glen, where we could gather the horses together while we ate. Giriel, Rhiannel, and I went aloft to watch, and we set a substantial perimeter guard. Kíli made do with a sleeping pad and a blanket, but it wasn’t a restful night for any of us.

Just after dawn, the nervous, rapid tapping of spider legs on tree limbs brought us all alert, and we had a few of the monsters to dispatch. After the horror of slithering things and untouchable water in the Enchanted River, a few gigantic spiders seemed almost tame, and we killed three before the rest dispersed. The Elves looked pleased with themselves, but I was quick to get us back in the saddle.

“They come back in force,” I explained, and Kíli shuddered as he nodded agreement. The Imladris Elves didn’t dispute me, but got ahorse with a handful of dried meat and journey bread to provide breakfast while we rode. Even the horses seemed glad to be away, though after so many days of swift travel, they were as tired as we.

We fought off another spider patrol in the afternoon, but it was a smaller one, and not eager to face so many of us. The night was uneventful, and we even dared to stop early and pitch our tents to rest, for we all needed it after so long a day.

We had covered thirty miles since we’d crossed the Enchanted River, and tomorrow we would reach the Woodland Realm. Fortune had favored us because we had not run into an Elvish patrol thus far, so one of the reasons we stopped so early was so that we could see to our horses, our armor, and ourselves, so that whenever we did meet a patrol, we made as good an appearance as possible. We polished tack, burnished armor, shined blades and bits and boots, and shook out our best traveling clothes. Our camp remained dark, given that we greatly preferred to attract no attention. I would be mightily pleased to ride across the bridge to my onetime home as a complete surprise to the denizens, but that was to hope for more luck than we were likely to have.

As night fell, I sat with Kíli in our tent, happy to have a few moments with him and Míriel and our fellow Orc Spawn. We talked quietly to minimize the chance of being overheard, and I was glad that Míriel seemed no worse for our travels. She was happy to have one or another of us walk her back and forth under the tent, or feed her bits of journey bread. Her burbles had turned into recognizable names for most of us – Tada and Mami for Kíli and me; Jir, Teth, Rhana, and Lindi were Giriel, Tethrandil, Rhiannel, and Lindir. She also knew Lorra for Lord Elrond, and Ga for Gandalf. She had names for her toys, her carry basket, several horses, and her favorite foods.

“She’ll be speaking in sentences before you know it,” Kíli grinned, rolling onto his back and folding his knees into his chest. He plopped Míriel on his shins to bounce her up and down as if she were a rider on a horse. “And riding a real pony rather than my legs, won’t you, Miri? We’ll have to get a pony when we get home, _amrâlimê_. Our bairn will be a great horse maid.”

Míriel giggled as if that was her sole desire, making the rest of us smile.

“Please, Kíli, wait until our babe can walk before you teach her to stand on the back of the pony, will you?” I asked, only half teasingly.

“I’ll be content to teach her to ride first,” he tossed back with a quick grin for me before he went back to making funny faces for Míriel. “Now’s the time to, of course. She’s still bowlegged like any good bairn, so she can get her wee legs around the pony’s barrel better. Yes, you will, Miri!”

“I shall leave you to teach Míriel the finer points of her seat, _a’maelamin_.” I climbed to my feet. “I’ll be on the perimeter, just to keep an eye out for spiders.”

Giriel rose, too. “I’ll go with you. To keep an eye out for Woodland Elves who decide they don’t like you being here.”

I sighed. “They will not be out at night, Giriel –”

“And if they are, they won’t come upon you while I’m watching your back, _osellë_ ,” The Elf maid replied firmly. “We haven’t come all the way from Imladris to let an overzealous tree Elf take a shot at you.”

“I’m a tree Elf, too, if you recall,” I said at Giriel’s slightly sneering tone.

“Not any more. You’re part of Imladris now, and Kíli’s _amrâlimê_ , and an Orc Spawn, and the right noble lady wife of Imladris’s ambassador at large for all things Dwarvish, as well as the wife of the sole representative of the Blue Mountain Dwarves. So while there is nothing wrong with being a tree Elf, you are certainly not merely a tree Elf.”

Kíli snickered. “Valar, maid, you’re quite exalted, aren’t you? If you listen to Giriel, you’ll have quite the head full of air, and we’ll all bask in your shining brilliance.”

Giriel made a rude noise at Kíli, and I laughed. “Oh, _osellë_ and _otornoa_ , it is good to joke. For in a day or so, I don’t think we will be so free. It will likely be a tedious time.”

“It won’t be so bad,” Kíli offered. “We have Lindir and Teth to keep us properly within the range of good protocol, and Rhiannel to make us sound nice, and Giriel to stop the honeyed words with her glare. We have Lord Elrond and Gandalf to give us credibility, and Helmia and our stout guardsmen to make us look impressively capable. And we also have the Ambassador of Unfair Advantage to disarm any unfriendly folk with her cuteness.”

“So we have,” I nodded. “We will soon find out. But until we ride up to that gate, I will still walk our perimeter.”

“Then let’s go,” Giriel rolled her eyes, shouldering her bow. “Sooner started is sooner ended!”

I kissed Míriel and Kíli, and ducked out of the tent with Giriel close behind. We walked the perimeter of the camp once before I turned to my _osellë_ – only to find her about to speak to me. We shared sheepish smiles.

“You first,” Giriel waved at me.

“I was about to ask you for the real reason you came with me.”

“The reason I gave in our tent was truth, _osellë_. I guard you against overzealous tree Elves. But I do have another – don’t bother to ask, because I’m about to tell you what it is. Helmia has been teaching Rhiannel and me how to guard you and Kíli properly when we get inside this wonderful Woodland cavern. So has Lindir – he’s been well trained to look after Lord Elrond, which makes perfect sense. Anyway, Helmia, and the guard will still watch over you, but from an official distance. Rhiannel and I will stay closer at all times, both as advisors as well as guards. So will Tethrandil. What I want to know is how much you think we’ll have to watch out for.”

Exhaling, I looked at my boots, then up at my _osellë_. “The Woodland Realm is rife with gossip, but not violence. I do not expect to attract anything but curiosity. Having said that...”

“Will the king bear a grudge for the things you said to him?”

“Surely.”

“Will he consider Míriel an abomination?”

A long silence stretched. “I do not know.”

“You wish he won’t, but you think he will,” was Giriel’s blunt interpretation of my hesitation. “So we will watch all three of you. I tell you because I want you to know. I also tell you because you cannot stop us.”

“Giriel...”

“Stop it, Tauriel. The Orc Spawn stand together.”

I smiled at the fierce whisper of my friend. That was Giriel, fierce in everything. I held out my hand. “ _Comys thoyn_ , then.”

“ _Comys thoyn, osellë_.” Smiling grimly, she tapped my palm with her fist, then drew an arrow from her quiver and nocked it in her bow. “Now, let us walk the perimeter as we promised.”

 

* * *

 

I waited for dawn impatiently. I expected that today, at long last, we’d reach the Woodland Realm. I was eager to get on with it, if only to relieve my apprehension. Like Kíli, I did not like waiting for a battle to start, even one where the engagement was with protocol and words rather than swords and arrows. This was one I wanted over.

I was not on duty, so I played with Míriel on her pad outside our tent, but I was so distracted watching the treetops that Míriel climbed up on my lap to pat my face plaintively.

“Troli, Mami. Troli.”

“I am sorry, Míriel,” I sighed, taking her doll up again. “You are much more important than this lot of talking and posturing, yet I cannot think of anything else. This is very important for your Tada.”

“Tada,” Míriel said comfortably, reaching for Troli’s doll. Her face brightened, and she held up her toy. “Tada! Troli!”

“You have your best friend, do you?” Kili came out of the tent to fold down on his knees beside me. His hand strayed to my nape to caress my hair. “Hullo, Troli’s doll. Hullo, little jewel. Hullo, _amrâlimê_.”

He kissed me quickly. “Today is the day, is it?”

I nodded. “I expect it is.”

“Have you already eaten? Can I bring you something?”

“I ate something earlier when I fed Míriel. She ate quite a lot of journey bread, too.”

Kíli grinned, fluffing Míriel’s hair. “It’ll be good to have something fresh, won’t it, Miri? I hope those Woodland Elves know how to bake bread. If not, maybe we’ll steal a few of the king’s favorite rosewater biscuits and sneak into a closet somewhere to eat them.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh at Kíli’s irreverence, or worry that he’d actually try to purloin King Thranduil’s treats, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want Kíli to think I wondered if he’d act so childishly. But he slid his eyes from Míriel to me, laughing.

“No, I won’t try to steal the king’s biscuits. I will behave so well that you will wonder what happened to the reckless Dwarf you married.”

I reddened. “I know you wouldn’t do such a thing, Kíli.”

“What, behave, or be reckless?” he teased, but his grin turned rueful. “Don’t worry, _amrâlimê_. I promise to behave today. Now, two decades ago... eh, maybe just one... it would have been different, I expect. Fíli and I might have tried to steal the king’s dainties, just to say we could.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. You said Fíli was always conscious of being a proper heir.”

Kíli snorted. “A proper _Dwarf_ heir. Not a proper Elf heir.” He relented when he saw my face. “Eh, you’re right. We wouldn’t have. And I won’t today. But I can joke about it ahead of time to try to ease my beautiful wife’s nerves.”

“I _am_ nervous. The king banished me, and –”

“Lord Elrond and Gandalf are here, and we have Helmia and the guard, and I’ve soaked up everything that Teth and Lindir and the rest of them have taught me. We’ll be all right.”

I shook my head. “It’s I who should tell you these reassuring things.”

“We tell them to each other. Now, I’ll find breakfast, and then I shall adorn myself in my traveling ambassadorial splendor. Any help you can offer with my braids would be most welcome, after which I’ll be glad to offer you the same help.”

I gave Kíli a quick kiss. “Of course. Find your breakfast, and we’ll both adorn ourselves properly.”

He stood up, drawing Míriel with him when she stretched up her arms. He swung her onto his hip with easy nonchalance, and wandered off to the food baskets. It was a good thing I hadn’t already dressed Míriel; knowing her father, he would find something to feed her, and crumbs on her top would soon follow. I grinned suddenly. Crumbs were a small price to pay for a father who took such good care of the bairn he loved so much.

I hoped King Thranduil saw that love, and found its resonance in how he felt about Legolas. But if he did not, I hoped that he looked upon our daughter with tolerance, if not pleasure.

Our tent was soon full of Orc Spawn as we arrayed ourselves in full regalia. Kíli was not the only one subject to scrutiny; all of us gave each other a critical eye so that braids were straight, tunics were properly fastened, and dust was dispatched. Míriel found herself in her first tunic, which she did not relish, given that it was buttoned under her chin. She didn’t appreciate how the deep red color made her cheeks look even rosier and her hair like the color of cherries, either. But she took Troli’s doll in hand, and was happy enough as we packed up our things, loaded our horses, and set out.

As we had planned, a few of the guard preceded Tethrandil and Lindir riding abreast on the path, each carrying a standard. Lindir bore the flag of Imladris, and Tethrandil the symbol of the Blue Mountain Dwarves. Following them were Lord Elrond and Gandalf. Kíli and I followed, with Míriel in her basket on my back. Rhiannel and Giriel followed us, and the guard followed them. We set out at a brisk pace, but no pace was enough to cross those last twenty miles as fast as I wanted to.

We didn’t quite get to the front gates undetected, but we were perhaps only five or six miles away when an outgoing patrol appeared on the path ahead of us. They drew up in surprise as we approached. I knew each of the Elves in the patrol, of course, but let Tethrandil and Lindir handle the formalities of announcing the imminent arrival of Lord Elrond, high lord of Imladris. That was shocking enough that I suspect the poor patrol didn’t hear anything more, so the Grey Wizard and Ambassador of the Blue Mountain Dwarves may have gone unnoticed. But the patrol was quick enough to send one of its members racing back to the cavern to alert one and all. Lord Elrond bid us proceed at a canter, so we wouldn’t arrive much behind the messenger.

The stone bridge appeared before us, arching over the Forest River and leading to the stair and grassy courtyard that lay before the massive bronze gates. The bridge was wide enough that we remained in our formation, though the guard closed ranks so that we could get four of us abreast to cross the bridge. Our horses handled the stair up to the courtyard without trouble, and soon we stood with our heralds, Lindir and Tethrandil, in front, Lord Elrond and Gandalf behind, then Kíli and I flanked by Giriel and Rhiannel behind them, and the guard arrayed around us all. I snuck a look at Kíli. He sat straight atop Trellennan with his head up and his eyes on the gates, looking calm and interested. He caught my gaze, but only smiled slightly before looking back at the gates.

The gates swung open without sound, impressive and magical as always. To either side, guards stood at attention with tall pikes and exotically curved swords, anonymous behind their fine meshed face screens, elegant, alien, and deadly. I noticed that the breeze was slight but steady, the sun was bright, and the horses stood immobile, as if we were in a picture, or as if time stopped to give the Valar time to look down upon our tableau. Two such eminent Elf lords had not met face to face for time immemorial.

Out of the darkness beyond the great doors, a tall, slender, yet powerful figure clad in green and silver robes strode forward. His leaf patterned mantle billowed behind him, revealing its darker green lining shot with iridescence, and his sword Needle was at his side. When he came out into the sunlight, the breeze sent his white hair streaming around him in a cloud.

Out of respect for Lord Elrond, King Thranduil had not worn his crown. Even without it, he still managed to make quite the impressive entrance.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Team Kili gets its first taste of ceremony in the Woodland Realm, and we get a tantalizing taste of what King Thranduil and Prince Legolas think about their visitors. Let the protocol wars begin!
> 
> Oh, and Miriel is talking in real words now. There's nothing like a baby to leaven the pageantry.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the opening round. More will soon follow!

_The rumor raced through the cavern like lightning. Finlor felt it coming, a wave of palpable excitement as it swept through the Elves in the grand hall. One after another roused out of his or her usual serenity with an excitement he hadn’t seen in centuries, and most hastened towards the main cavern entrance. He followed behind them, straining to catch scraps of conversations, but there were so many of them that he couldn’t make out individual threads. Finally, one of the minor Elves who’d come to him often turned towards him in recognition._

_“You’ve heard then, Finlor! Extraordinary!”_

_“To be sure,” Finlor nodded gravely._

_“The high lord of Imladris! Lord Elrond himself! All the way from that storied city! Here!”_

_The Elf was too excited to bear Finlor’s slow pace, and hurried on, uncaring when Finlor slowed still more._

_The lord of the High Elves had come here?_

_Why?_

_Finlor joined the rush of Elves flooding towards the kingdom’s main gates._

_* * *_

 

King Thranduil could not have staged a more perfect entrance. Between the breeze making the most ridiculously stunning aura of his long, white hair, and the sunlight gilding his robes with glamour, even the elements wanted him to appear perfectly majestic. He received the ritual announcements from Lindir and Tethrandil with a perfectly regal nod of the head, held his hands perfectly wide, and bowed his perfect head on his perfect neck to appear perfectly graceful, beneficent, and honored.

“I am deeply honored. Please, be welcome to the Woodland Realm.”

His Quenya was perfectly spoken, too.

I sighed. King Thranduil knew how to make a statement, and even surprised, without preparation, he’d done so... yes, perfectly.

_You don’t have to look perfect, Kíli. You just have to make an agreement. Remember, Tauriel hated living with that cold perfection, which is just as well, as you don’t have a crumb of it. She loves your warmth – your life, your laughter, and your love for her. Remember that, now put it aside. You’re about to make your debut as an ambassador._

Yes, Lord Elrond and Gandalf were dismounting their horses in front of me, so I gave Trellennan’s reins to Rhiannel beside me and followed suit, flanking Lord Elrond on the left as Gandalf did on the right as we approached the Woodland Realm’s king.

“Lord Elrond,” King Thranduil greeted with a graceful bow. Interesting; the king wasn’t the least theatrical in greeting the high lord, but seemed as deeply honored as he’d said (and as he should be, to my lights, but my lights were immaterial). His bow was not merely a nod of the head, but an actual bending from the hips, the deepest acknowledgement I’d seen him give anybody. In return, Lord Elrond also bowed, if not quite so deeply. So King Thranduil acknowledged the slightly higher status of Imladris’s lord.

“King Thranduil. It is my honor and pleasure to meet you. May I present my companion, Gandalf the Grey, Mithrandir of the Istari.”

Gandalf accorded the king a deep bow. “King Thranduil, it is my honor and pleasure to meet you, as well.”

King Thranduil’s bow was still more than a mere nod of the head, deeper than I expected. “Mithrandir. You honor me with your presence. Welcome to the Woodland Realm.”

Gandalf bowed again, and Lord Elrond turned to me. “May I present my companion, Kíli, ambassador of the Blue Mountain Dwarves, as well as Imladris’s ambassador at large for Dwarvish affairs.”

I made my deepest bow. “It is my honor and pleasure to see you again, King Thranduil. I am pleased to find you and your kingdom well.”

When I looked up, King Thranduil returned my bow. It wasn’t a deep one, but it was slightly more than a head bob, so I took that as a compliment. What was more of a compliment was the surprise on the king’s face.

“You survived the battle at Erebor.”

“I was fortunate enough to do so, yes.”

“Yet you are not the King of Erebor? I thought you were the Heir of Durin.”

“With all respect, I preferred that my cousin Dain take the throne, so as to free me to play a different role for our folk.”

“And what would that be?” he frowned, proving how much he disliked anything untoward or unusual. Why I wouldn’t be the king was something he’d never understand, and now wasn’t the time to try, at any rate. So I offered him another bow, my hand over my heart.

“That is in large part the reason for our presence here, King Thranduil. I hope you will allow me to describe it to you in detail, to the mutual benefit and security of all our folk.”

His eyes narrowed in speculation, curiosity, and wariness, but he nodded, willing to let the matter rest for the moment. He looked back to Lord Elrond, and held his hand out to beckon us through the doors.

“You have traveled a great distance, I am sure under difficult conditions. Allow me to show you to chambers where you may rest and restore yourselves, and then we may talk in more comfort.”

Lord Elrond smiled graciously. “That would be most welcome. However, before we enter, I ask you to accept the presence of one in our company who is known to you. I am aware that you have banished the Nandor Elf Tauriel from your kingdom, and do not dispute it. Yet our need to meet with you was so great on more than one account that I asked her to guide us here, so as to speed our journey. She did so for both our benefits. I hope that you will allow her presence with us as an example of her regard for you and your kingdom, as well as for me and mine, and I will vouch for her during our visit.”

King Thranduil looked past us to find Tauriel in our party. “Bring her forward.”

I turned and went to Tauriel’s side. She looked down at me with concern.

“The king’s asked for you to come forward.”

She visibly gulped. “Should I bring Míriel?”

“We might as well get all the surprises out into the open,” I murmured lowly, and winked at her.

Beside her, Giriel smothered a smile. “I’ll lift her out, _osellë_ ,” she murmured, “and hand her down to Kíli.”

That was duly done, and Tauriel dismounted. She shrugged off Míriel’s carry basket and handed it to Giriel, then took the arm I offered her.

Before we turned to pace towards the king, I whispered, “You are my most precious _amrâlimê_.”

She squeezed my arm in gratitude, stiffening her resolve.

In my arms, Míriel held Troli’s doll and looked silently about us with great interest. She looked quite grave, as a matter of fact, even though I suspected she thought all this spectacle was for her benefit, just as she thought all parties were. That gave me something to smile about inside, but I kept my expression neutral. We returned to my place to Lord Elrond’s left.

“King Thranduil, it is my greatest honor to present Tauriel, my wife, and Míriel, our daughter,” I bowed, and beside me Tauriel bowed as well.

My wife and child got the expected slight head nod, but for a moment I thought the king looked sad. I didn’t have time to think about it before he turned towards the gates and beckoned someone forward.

“May I present my son, Prince Legolas.”

There was the tall, blond Elf coming to stand at his father’s side. His expression was such a mixture of emotions – neutral on the surface, but underneath was not quite schooled surprise, uncertainty, and perhaps that same tinge of sadness that I’d seen on his father’s face.

“Lord Elrond,” Legolas said, bowing deeply. “I am greatly honored. Gandalf, I am pleased to see you again. Ambassador Kíli, Tauriel, I am glad to see you both looking so well. I offer my congratulations on the birth of your daughter.”

“Prince Legolas,” Tauriel and I murmured, bowing.

“Tauriel,” King Thranduil said, drawing our eyes to him. He skewered my wife with an icy and unblinking regard, then inclined his head towards Legolas, though his eyes never left her. “You owe a great debt to the one who urged me to lift the ban I placed on you. This I have done, out of respect for him.”

He didn’t wait for acknowledgement, but held his hand out towards the great doors. “Please, be welcome, and at ease. The Woodland Realm is open to you.”

The king turned and swept inside, expecting us to follow. Legolas did, though he cast Tauriel a lingering look that might have been regret. Lord Elrond and Gandalf followed, and Tauriel and I fell in behind. Elves streamed behind us to take our mounts and baggage in hand. Lord Elrond’s attendants were quickly beside him, just as Giriel and Rhiannel were beside Tauriel and me. Lindir and Tethrandil were off to the side with one of the Woodland Elves.

“Ondine,” Tauriel murmured to the Orc Spawn. “She is the King’s protocol officer, the Woodland Realm’s liaison to its visitors, as Lindir and Teth are ours to our hosts. They will tell her how many are in our company, and any special considerations we require, so that they can prepare appropriately for us.”

Gandalf came to our huddle, smiling faintly. “Well done, Kíli. Well, that is an unexpected relief that your banishment has been lifted, Tauriel.”

“Prince Legolas has a generous nature,” Tauriel replied, but neutrally rather than warmly. The king’s icy regard had not been forgiveness, to be sure, and she knew that as well as I. Still, I was glad that we weren’t starting our game with King Thranduil by flaunting her banishment. I didn’t care what he thought, so my only concern was that Tauriel not let him dishearten her. I squeezed her hand in encouragement, and she rewarded me with a warm smile.

 

* * *

 

_Finlor watched from the side as the party from Imladris was escorted into the cavern. It was truly the high lord himself – the highest of high lords, Lord Elrond from Imladris! Finlor forgot to breathe for a long moment, so stunned was he. What in Middle Earth could possibly have driven the land’s highest lord of the Eldar to venture from the safety and serenity of Imladris, across so much difficult terrain, to reach the Woodland Realm – a relative backwater?_

_Even that question paled beside the scent of magic. It permeated the aura of the high lord – that of the wizard, too. Both of them? Yes – there was no doubt of it. Both lord and wizard. Finlor had worked beside too many Eldar alchemists, magicians, necromancers, and seers not to recognize the power that emanated from both of them. Perhaps in the case of the wizard, it was his nature that contained such power, but he thought not. It was certainly not for the Eldar, not even for such an eminent lord._

_Celebrimbor’s most powerful creations – Narya, Nenya, and Vilya – had never been found after Sauron had revealed himself. Before his capture and execution, the great Eldar craftsman had secreted the purest and most powerful of Elvish rings away, preserving them so that they could defend against the Dark Lord at some critical point. No one knew where they lay sleeping, or who guarded them._

_Narya the Red inspired hope in others to resist tyranny, despair, and domination._

_Nenya, a flower of mithril and diamond, offered secrecy and concealment from evil, and the preservation of all good things._

_Vilya, that starkest of gold bands that bound the deepest of blue gems, was the most powerful of the three, and granted the power to heal and preserve._

_Finlor’s mouth watered. Which two of those three were before him now?_

_* * *_

 

We weren’t left to mill about the hall behind the tall bronze doors for long. Two years ago, I’d come through this hall with Uncle Thorin’s company, hands bound behind me and shoved along by tall, menacing Elves. Then, I hadn’t had time to take in anything but the height of the hall and a glimpse of vining stonework before being herded down, down, down into the depths of the cavern to the king’s cell block. Now, I registered the amber lamps that cast the hall in golden light, and the smooth floor underfoot laid in rich tessellations of cream, brown, and amber, as well as the walls carved with vines. The hall soared overhead to four or more times my height, dwarfing the tallest of Elves. Even Beorn would have felt miniscule in this space. But in only a few moments, Elves came forward to lead us to a part of the cavern I had not seen before.

“They will take us to the guest suites,” Tauriel said.

“They’ll keep us together?” I asked. “We won’t be scattered apart from each other, will we?”

“Lindir and Teth knew to insist on that,” Tauriel assured me, watching what went on around us. As Lindir and Tethrandil headed back to our group, she nodded. “Yes, we go to the guest suites now.”

Our two heralds joined us. Lindir leaned to whisper in Lord Elrond’s ear, who barely nodded; he was much more familiar with this routine than I was, so I leaned forward to hear what Tethrandil had to say to the Orc Spawn.

“We have three connecting rooms beside those for Mithrandir and Lord Elrond,” our white-haired comrade informed us softly. “One for Kíli, Tauriel, and Míriel; one for Rhiannel and Giriel; and one for me. Lindir will be with Lord Elrond next door. The guard will have rooms around us, so we will remain together. Our baggage is on its way, and we’ll have time to bathe and rest. There will be a brief ceremony with Lord Elrond and Mithrandir to witness Kíli presenting his letters of credence to the king, then we’ll have a meal. After that, we’ll see what develops. There is our guide, so let us follow.”

I followed Tethrandil, not able to see much of where we went because so many tall Elves surrounded me, just more of the amber lamps casting their warm golden light on pale limestone. The passageways were neither square nor straight, but undulated as they had far below in the cellblock, so that part was familiar. These passageways, however, were wider, higher, and more elaborately decorated. In a few moments, our guide opened the door to our suite. Just ahead of us, another guide saw to Lord Elrond, Lindir, and the contingent of guards who would be the high lord’s immediate protection. Beyond them, Gandalf disappeared into his room. We came into ours, a beautifully decorated and appointed salon full of elegant furniture arranged atop sensuously thick carpets. Tethrandil’s eyes warned me to remain impassive while he saw to the ritual of inspecting the rooms and ushering the guide out. As soon as the door shut on him, Tauriel prowled the room, checking behind wall hangings and pictures, ostensibly for listening ports. Giriel, Tethrandil, and Rhiannel joined her, and so I kept quiet, mugging at Míriel as she and I looked around this new place. She still had Troli’s doll in her grip, but she held it out to me.

“Down,” she said distinctly.

I snickered at the imperial nature of that single word, but took her doll, put it on the nearest table, and took her hands to lower her toes to the floor. I walked her up and down the soft carpet while the Orc Spawn completed their inspection of the salon and the adjoining rooms. I was pleased to see three very nice resting chambers, each with a bathing chamber. All of the resting chambers had a Man-sized sleeping platform as well as the reading couches that Elves tended to favor for their nightly restoration, so I was not the first foreigner the Woodland Realm had entertained. Soon enough, my comrades had completed their inspection, and so I drew close to their huddle.

“The rooms are clear,” Tauriel murmured, “so we are safe enough to speak freely. Still, I would not discuss anything of any import without checking the room first.”

“The voice of experience,” I said as quietly, drawing the wry grins of our friends. I let Míriel drop to the carpet, which she patted experimentally, then set off for a good crawl over it. “But while the rooms are clear, tell us how we’re doing so far, Teth.”

He grinned openly. “We have made quite the impression so far, _mellonea nin_. Most of that that is Lord Elrond’s doing, of course. This visit is unprecedented. Your presence is noted, Kíli, especially in light of your ties to the Blue Mountain Dwarves, and not the expected tie to those of Erebor. Tauriel has attracted her share of attention, of course, and so has our Advisor of Unfair Advantage.”

“There aren’t many bairns here, then?” I asked, looking to Tauriel.

She shook her head. “Very few. Perhaps two or three.”

I looked at Míriel, happily exploring underneath a table. “I suppose you’ll have to sit with the tall folk, Miri, just like your _Taad_.”

“She will have a seat between you at table,” Tethrandil supplied. “Ondine asked specifically for any accommodations our babe required, and given that Míriel is well used to parties, I said a seat was enough, with a small, unbreakable cup and plate before it. Ondine smiled to hear that, and said such would be found. I also suggested that our Dwarvish ambassador would be most grateful for hearty fare at suppers, and was well satisfied with Elvish fare at all other times, if in more quantity.”

My grin was pleased. “I thank you for looking after me so well, my excellent advisor for protocol! How long do we have before supper?”

“Two hours.”

“Good! We’ll all have time for a good soak. Although after, I would like one last reminder of all the things I have to do to present my letters, and then eat politely.”

“Of course. But after so much study already, you will find the ceremony easier than the study.”

“Maybe so, but I want to make sure I do the Orc Spawn proud. You’ve all worked very hard to polish a smith to his brightest.”

“It’d be more fun if this were a Dwarvish feast,” Giriel sighed, reclining on the floor with Míriel. “I’d bet that our babe would agree with me.”

Rhiannel snickered. “You like the throwing of cakes more than is seemly.”

“I do,” Giriel agreed readily. “Though not so much for the throwing of cakes, but for the happy spirits who do the throwing. What sort of feast will this be, Tauriel?”

“There will be no throwing of anything,” Tauriel assured us lightly, but she looked uncomfortable. “The food will be delicious, and the table will be laid with the most beautiful of plates and cups and other dishes, and the music will be nice, though livelier than what is typical for Imladris. But there will also be much parading of gowns and robes and jewels, and the deadly hierarchy of the court. This will be my first time to attend such an affair. My previous experience was only as one of the honor guards who watched over it.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Giriel snorted, but Tauriel shook her head at once.

“No, no. I count myself as fortunate that I never went as part of the court. I do not care about clothing to the point of obsession, nor did I want to make alliances or intrigues, or false friends, or deadly enemies. It was quite a relief to remain safely out of the fray.”

“So what must we do, being outsiders coming into the fray?” I asked. “Can we stay above it without insulting anyone? Teth, what do you suggest?”

Our comrade’s grey eyes were considering. “I rely on you to know best, Tauriel. But my sense is that if this court is driven on prestige and hierarchy, then as Imladris Elves, we technically outrank the Nandor and even the Sindar – the ruling family. Kíli’s position as ambassador puts him safely out of the fray. Tauriel, as ambassador’s wife and advisor to Lord Elrond, I hope that puts you out of the fray, as well.”

“That will be the case when we enter the room,” Tauriel agreed. “What happens after that...”

“Is ours to better or worsen,” Rhiannel finished, and both Tauriel and Tethrandil nodded agreement. He hummed. “How glad I am that Lord Elrond does not hold such a court.”

“My suggestion is to appear genial and interested, but listen four times more than you talk,” Tethrandil said. “That is something I learned in many trade negotiations. The folk who are seen as the most congenial and easy to work with do not brag, or speak of themselves much at all, but encourage others to talk. It is easy to find out what interests someone, and let the conversation flow there. Soak up the drops that are of interest to us, and let the rest flow by.”

“So I shall not be Giriel the Orc Spawn tonight.” Our forthright Elf maid gathered Míriel into her arms and rolled to her feet, drawing Míriel to giggle. Giriel’s expression, however, was not silly, but that of a hunter intent on quarry. “I shall be the ears and eyes of Imladris.”

We laughed, but it was more in agreement than humor. “We’ll all be the ears and eyes of Imladris tonight,” I agreed. “I’m for a bath so as to make one pair of eyes and ears smell better than they do right now.”

We separated to our rooms to soak ourselves into the proper state of cleanliness for the coming feast – or fray, if Tauriel were to put her name it.

 

* * *

 

Kíli climbed into the bathing tub with relish, and scrubbed thoroughly while I suckled Míriel. When she was done, she went happily into the tub with her father, splashing and laughing. I disrobed slowly, but Kíli sensed how nervous I was, and so held his hand out to me.

“Come in with us, _amrâlimê_ ,” he beckoned. “This all must feel so strange to you, but at least the warmth of the tub will be familiar.”

“I don’t want it to be familiar.”

Kíli blew bubbles for Míriel to pop, then looked at me. “Then think about us being at home, and whether you want to talk me out of having you in the tub.”

That made me smile, if reluctantly. “In front of our babe?”

Kíli grinned rakishly. “I’ll do it so delicately under the water that she’ll notice only how tenderly you whisper my name when I send you over the moon.”

I chuckled, but even that was apprehensive.

“Please, Tauriel? It would make Míriel very happy if you would join her in the tub to play. It would make me very happy, too, because the warm water will help you relax.”

I slipped in at last, guiltily. “I am sorry, _a’maelamin_. Once more, I should be the one to reassure you, not you me.”

“Oh, I won’t complain.” Kíli nestled us closely, with Míriel cradled between. “It gives me something useful to do instead of worrying about making a fool of myself over supper.”

“Teth’s advice is sound,” I replied, pushing a little wavelet with my fingers towards Míriel. “Listen most, talk least. Mind your manners, for the court will surely watch them if you do not. Drink little, so as to keep your thoughts straight. Compliment the food.”

“See? You are a font of knowledge!” Kíli teased, but his smile was encouraging. “We’ll get through this, Tauriel. We both will.”

I kissed Kíli’s cheek. “Nothing discourages you, Kíli.”

“A Dwarf is used to being an underdog,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m used to being an underdog to the underdogs. But I’ve done all right, haven’t I? I’ve got a beautiful wife whom I love very much, a delightful bairn, a wonderful home in the best city in all of Middle Earth, and the best of friends in the Orc Spawn. While we’re here, we’ve got Lord Elrond and the Grey Wizard to stand beside us. This place and this king can’t take any of those things from me, or from you, either.”

“You are right, Kíli. I will remember all that I have gained by leaving this place.”

“If you want something to smile about,” Kíli nipped at the marriage ring in my ear, “remember that we coupled first in the king’s trysting chamber in his _Glawar-galad_. Talk about being reckless and rash, yes?”

I grinned, and stroked his wet hair. “Talking is only the beginning of all we did that night, my sweet _amrâlimê_.”

Kíli’s eyes lit and he hummed deep in his throat. “Oh and oh, that is my fierce warrior Elf maid, come back unto herself. I’d better get out of the tub, or Míriel will see me do far, far more than tease you delicately under the water.”

“And me repay you in kind,” I riposted. “But that would make us late for supper, and that would not be wise.”

Kíli clambered out with a groan. “No it wouldn’t, though it’s tempting. I don’t have status enough yet to make them hold the supper. So I’ll dry the bairn instead, and let her roll around a bit more on these fine carpets. They’re silk or something just as soft, and I’m half tempted to roll around on them myself.”

Laughing at Kíli’s irreverence, I handed Míriel to him, and set to washing. Perhaps after supper, I’d tempt Kíli to do more than roll around on the fine carpet in our sleeping chamber. By the time I finished enjoying that idea, I was clean and dry, and I came out to find Kíli and Míriel both crawling on said soft carpet. Míriel had nothing on but her diaper, Kíli had advanced only to smalls, and both looked so silly as they looked up at me inquiringly that I laughed.

“Have you lost something?”

Kíli grinned as he reached under the settee and drew out Míriel’s squeaky ball. “Not yet, but we’re trying to.”

Míriel crawled vigorously to Kíli and pushed, rolling him over, and she clambered on top trying to reach her toy. “Ball, Tada, ball.”

“Ball, ball, ball!” Kíli squeaked, tapping the toy on Míriel’s nose with each word. “Is this the ball you want? Are you sure? This very one?”

He rolled it over his head towards me, which got a snort from Míriel. “Tada,” she sighed, and rolled off him to crawl for the ball. “Ball, Mami.”

I toed it towards her as Kíli sat up. “Miri is right about the carpet,” he grinned, rubbing it, then got to his feet. “Very nice, indeed. And look what else we found!”

He swept up Míriel, swinging her in his arms to deposit her in the wooden cradle nestled in the corner. “Look, Miri. It’s got all your toys in it. Now play quietly while I ravish your mother.”

He had me in his arms and on the sleeping platform in a heartbeat, stripped his smalls in the next, and joined us before the third had passed. He proceeded to overwhelm my protest in short order, until I desperately hoped Míriel was indeed content to play with her toys for the next several moments. This was one of the times where being married to a Dwarf was precipitous, yet very satisfying. He tended me thoroughly, threw himself after me in short order, and rolled over with a well-pleased grin to look at Míriel.

“See? She never missed us. Happily showing Troli’s doll the embroidery on the cushion.”

“You are irrepressible,” I sat up, laughing at Kíli’s bright eyes.

“And well laid,” he smirked, stretching. “It’ll give me something to smile about at supper.”

“For which we had better dress.”

“So we shall. A fine couple we shall make. Me in black, and you in sea blue.”

“My dress is green, _a’maelamin_.”

“If you insist, but I got you a dress to go with my ambassador suit, in blue to match the lining of my coat and the tunic. I hope you like it.”

He put a carefully rolled bundle of fine silk on the bed for me to unwrap. It was a lovely gossamer thing, in the Imladris court style to skim the body smoothly, then drape gracefully to the floor in a wide sweep. There were matching slippers with it, and a simple circlet of silver for my hair.

“I am not one to make a fuss over clothes,” I said quietly, smiling. “But I can occasionally make an exception.”

I gave him a long kiss, enough that he was about to reach for me again, but I held him off. “We can’t be late, _amrâlimê_. But I will give you an properly improper thank you in due course.”

“Will you? That’ll give me something else to smile about at supper.”

“The king will wonder what you smile about.”

Kíli’s grin was rakish. “Let him. Now, to dress.”

Despite the gravity of the occasion, neither of us took long to don our finery. My dress was soft and light, beautiful in every way. If truth be told, I was glad not to wear green, the color of so much of the Woodland Realm. Blue, I remembered, was the royal color of Kíli’s family, and silver was reserved for the second heir of the line. If I had to appear at King Thranduil’s court, I much preferred to so do as an Elf of Imladris, and wife of the royal line of Durin.

We had finished our braids and placed our circlets and were getting Míriel in her gown when a discreet tap sounded at the door. Kíli got up to answer it, to find Tethrandil there.

“We’re just getting Míriel dressed,” my husband said, holding the door wide. “Are we late?”

“Not at all,” our friend reassured us.

“Then come in, and would you go over the supper things again with me while we finish Miri?”

Kíli and Teth quickly went over the protocol and so forth while I got Míriel’s gown buttoned. It was the same dark black cherry color that suited her so well, but softer than the tunic she’d worn this morning, and so she didn’t fuss so much over it, though she did regard the small black slippers on her feet dubiously. She was used to small socks, or leggings with feet, but these were real slippers, with laces that I tied in tight knots that she couldn’t loosen. We did not need her to throw a slipper into the soup during the evening.

“She is ready, and so am I,” I announced, just as Kíli finished his recitation.

“I just need my letters,” Kíli said. “Oh, and the plant for the king. I didn’t carry it all this way just to leave it in the bathing chamber. I’ll get it.”

He came out with the potted plant he’d brought, eying it critically. It was a twining vine with bright red flowers that were just coming into bloom, and thankfully it didn’t look like it’d made as hard a journey as it had. Kíli had wiped the black ceramic pot clean, and carefully staked the vine up a bit to show the blooms, so it made a nice appearance.

“Give the plant to me,” Tethrandil suggested. “Here are your letters, and Tauriel has Míriel.”

“I’ve got Míriel’s toys,” Rhiannel added, as we came into our shared salon. He waggled Troli’s doll and the soft ball at her, drawing her smile. “The most important items, yes, little one?”

“Valar, what happened to the Orc Spawn? I don’t recognize them in any of us,” Kíli breathed in mock surprise as he surveyed us. Truly, we had transformed from seasoned warriors to the most elegant of Elvish entourages. Gone was the blunt Giriel we were so used to seeing, who had such a lack of vanity that we forgot how beautiful she was. Here she was, resplendent in a pale blue gown trimmed in yellow to match her hair. Rhiannel wore darker blue to match his darker hair. Tethrandil wore black and cloudy grey, quite striking with his white hair and grey eyes. “Yah, I suppose if I have to put up with being called a prince, at least I look the part, and so do all of you.”

“Ready?” Tethrandil asked Kíli, who smiled in more anticipation than I expected.

“Not quite yet. First, _mellonea nin_...”

He held out his hand, and we all added ours. “ _Comys thoyn_ , Orc Spawn.”

“ _Comys thoyn_ , Orc Spawn,” we answered, smiling.

“Now we’re ready,” Kíli exhaled. A gleeful smile lit up his face. “Remember, don’t slurp the soup.”

We followed Kíli out of our rooms, still smiling at his joke. Thus began our next game of chess.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Bring on the protocol! Will Kili wend his way through the maze of ceremony and posturing successfully? Have a read to find out!
> 
> Methinks Miriel might have a comment or two to make, too.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the show!

_For the first time in ages, Finlor accepted an invitation to the feast. It would be annoying to pretend interest in the Elf maid who asked him, but he would have the Imladris lord and his retinue to watch, which would make up for the maid’s lack._

_He dressed carefully in green robes. Green would be much in evidence, so he would not call attention to himself. Green also harmonized well with his emerald and amethyst rings –_

_No. Tonight, he would leave his rings in their mithril box, as well as his pendant of protection. At a feast for such eminent guests, there would be a receiving line, and he would come face to face with the high lord and the wizard. As he sensed the power of Elvish rings, they likely could sense his, too. Now was not the time to reveal his treasures, but to learn what he could about theirs, and how carefully they were guarded... or how carefully they were not._

 

* * *

 

I tucked my ambassadorial letters of credence under my left arm, offered Tauriel my right arm, and waited for the rest of the Orc Spawn to fall in behind me. To list our obvious accouterments, Giriel had Míriel, Teth the potted plant, and Rhiannel the small bag of Míriel’s things. As for the hidden ones, all of us, even the maids, were armed. Yes, we’d left our swords and bows in our rooms, but if we’d had to turn out all the blades, we would’ve amassed a collection that even Fíli would’ve had trouble hiding away. Despite my making nice noises to calm Tauriel, I was under no illusion about the King I was about to face. That bastard had tried to have me assassinated once, and had almost killed my wife himself in a fit of pique. He wasn’t one to show my back to, or weakness of any kind. Let Tauriel and Lord Elrond maneuver as the chess masters they were. For me, this was a hunt, a knife fight, a duel, and the first thing Master Dwalin had drilled into me about all of them was to stay cold. Don’t let the prey or the other fighter make you mad, because once you were mad, you were a poor hunter and a worse fighter. My goal for ceremony and supper, then, was to stay cold while I took the measure of my opponent.

As we came out into the hall, Lindir hastened towards us to draw us into Lord Elrond’s suite. Gandalf was already there, dressed in his usual grey robes, if cleaner than I’d seen them, and he was freshly bathed and combed. The high lord was richly dressed in deep blue shot with gold and trimmed in darker blue, with an elegant gold circlet on his brow. His deep eyes swept over us before settling on me.

“Good. You are well ready for this foray,” he said without preamble.

I nodded soberly. “Listen hard, find out the alliances, stay calm and sober, compliment the food, and don’t slurp the soup.”

The high lord’s grin was tinged with irony. “Well said. And let us hope that the king does not serve prawns.”

“Oh, Valar, I hope not,” Giriel whispered under her breath, drawing a soft chuckle from all of us.

“Lindir?” Lord Elrond beckoned to his aide, who stepped forward.

“Teth and I have learned very little about how we will be seated tonight after Kíli’s ceremony,” Lindir began. “But we expect that Mithrandir and Lord Elrond will be seated near the king. Kíli, Tauriel, and Míriel might sit with the king or the prince. The rest of us may be interspersed among the other guests at the feast. It is very important that we remember everything that Tauriel has told us about this court, and remain observant. Do not be drawn into questions of state or status, and do not gossip about anyone, either our folk or theirs. They do not need to know the rigors we took on to get here, either, or why. Those things are for Lord Elrond, Mithrandir, and Kíli to say as they need to.”

“Smile and nod,” Giriel summarized, unsmiling and un-nodding.

“Exactly,” Lindir agreed, just as seriously.

A gentle knock on the door sounded. It was Ondine, the Woodland Realm protocol officer, ready to lead us to the ceremony. We arranged ourselves accordingly, with me in front, alone – how distinctly odd that was, to precede Lord Elrond and Gandalf, who followed behind me. After them, came my advisors – Lindir and the Orc Spawn. I resisted the urge to smooth my coat before Ondine beckoned us to follow her.

Of course, the ceremony where I’d present my fancy letters of credence would take place in King Thranduil’s ostentatious throne room, where the king would preside from atop his stupendous Antlered Throne. The last time I’d been here, I’d been bound between two tall Woodland Elves eager to put a boot in my back, or better, a knife. This time, I had two of the most powerful beings in Middle Earth at my back to support me, so my circumstances had improved considerably. I took a deep breath; forgot about the schooling and studying that had readied me for this moment; and focused my attention on what unfolded _now_.

“I announce you, and you approach the throne,” Ondine murmured, looking sideways at me. She was a Nandor Elf, not as tall as Tauriel, and so was only six inches taller than I. That was encouraging. “You come forward to the center of the platform, bow, and announce who you are and your desire to present your letters. The king accedes to your request. You then announce the names of your counselors, who come forward to flank you. The king greets them, and asks you for your letters. You give them to me, I carry them to the king, he acknowledges receipt, and then reads them. He may ask you questions, or he may not. After that, he returns your letters to me, and acknowledges you as ambassador. You bow, your counselors bow, and then I lead you out.”

“I bear a gift for the king,” I inserted, walking beside Ondine as casually as if we passed through a park. “Would you prefer me to give it to him after he acknowledges me as ambassador, or after I bow?”

Ondine looked startled, but recovered quickly. “After you bow, I think. Yes, that would be best.”

“Very good,” I replied, as if I’d done this a dozen times before. “I’ll hand it to you to carry to him after I bow, then.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ondine murmured. To be called sir... I smothered a grin, and remained impassive. This was a duel. Master Dwalin didn’t allow grins during duels.

The throne room was ahead. Ondine led us along the curving path of carved limestone, and out into the vast chamber that seemed to stretch up, down, and around farther than the eye could see. It was dimly lit by bright points of amber lamps, and in places, rays of sunlight shot down to the depths in arrow straight, brilliant beams. It was quite a stunning sight, but as Master Dwalin didn’t allow acknowledgement of awe during a duel, either, I kept my eyes fixed ahead. Yes, there was the magnificent Antlered Throne topped with monstrous, curving elk horns, and there, seated in the center of those horns, was the king, resplendent in grey and silver robes. The mantle draped over the arms of his throne framed him in luxurious folds of iridescent green. He’d left off his sword, but he bore a tall staff topped in what looked to be amber inlaid with silver. Atop his stark white hair, the spikes of his tall crown were wreathed in green oak and beech leaves. He was quite the glorious picture.

Lord Elrond was the wiser king, and he never would have dreamed to sit on such a throne. I left my respect where it belonged, with the lord of Imladris.

Almost as an afterthought, Legolas sat some steps below his father’s left hand, on a much less ornate chair. Compared to his father, he was dressed in subdued robes of green and brown, though he did have a princely circlet at his brow.

Ondine murmured for me to stop in place, and so I waited as she went forward to bow to the king. He acknowledged her approach with a hand gesture, and she turned back towards me.

The Ambassador of the Blue Mountain Dwarves, and of Dwarvish Affairs for the Blessed City of Imladris.”

I walked forward steadily with head up, taking my time, stopping when I reached the precise center of the audience platform, whereupon I put my hand to my heart and bowed reasonably low, but not abjectly so. I straightened and met the king’s eyes straightly.

“I am Kíli, ambassador of the Blue Mountain Dwarves, and envoy to the Blessed City of Imladris on their behalf. In the name of friendship and mutual respect, I am here to present my letters of credence and my counselors to you, King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm.”

The king cocked his head at me, curious more than anything else, I thought. “You may present your counselors.”

I turned towards my friends. “It is my greatest honor to present the High Lord Elrond of Imladris.”

I bowed very low, far lower than I had for King Thranduil, as Lord Elrond came forward, and didn’t straighten until he stood at my right. He nodded to me. He turned to nod to the king, but did not bow; rather, it was King Thranduil who bowed on his throne. “Lord Elrond.”

“I am greatly honored to present Mithrandir, the Grey Wizard.” I bowed to the wizard as he approached with his staff in hand, and he gave me a smile before bowing a bit to the king.

“Mithrandir,” acknowledged the king.

I introduced Tauriel next, then Teth, Lindir, Giriel, and Rhiannel, but did not bow; instead, they offered me a slight bow before they bowed to the king. In turn, the king nodded to each one.

“You may present your letters,” King Thranduil beckoned a hand.

I handed the smooth packet of red leather with its ambassadorial seal to Ondine, who took it with a bow, and climbed the steps to the throne to hand it to the king. He cradled his staff in the crook of his elbow, then opened my packet to read the letters from my mother, Lord Elrond, and Beorn, from start to finish. His dark eyebrows went up a time or two, which I hoped boded well. Knowing I had the force and friendship of these three folk might impress the king enough that he’d treat well with me. Maybe I’d find out when he posed whatever questions he chose to pose.

“Your credentials are impressive,” the king said. Would he cross one knee over the other to pose in that self-satisfied, almost bored way he had when I’d first been dragged before him? No; maybe he was conscious of Lord Elrond’s regard. Instead, he laid my packet in his lap and leaned forward, steepling his fingers before him. “What do the Blue Mountain Dwarves want from the Woodland Realm?”

I hadn’t expected the king to be direct, but I was ready with a reply all the same. “Erebor is free again. Its far-flung people seek to return to it. Most of those folk settled in the Blue Mountains far to the east, and face a long journey west through the lands of other folk. We want to emigrate in a respectful way, in a way that strengthens ties between Erebor and its neighbors, and improves the security of all those realms. We have made such a treaty with Lord Elrond of Imladris, and another with the Beornings of the lands east of the Misty Mountains and west of Mirkwood. We seek to make a similar treaty with your kingdom.”

There it was, as plainly stated as I knew how. The king frowned and dropped his gaze to his hands. Whether my directness or my message concerned him, I couldn’t tell. He looked up to meet my eyes again.

“What is your proposal?”

“The heart of it is this. We propose to keep to the south of the Woodland Realm, traversing Mirkwood via the Old Forest Path, then turning north along the eastern edge of the forest to reach Erebor.”

“That path is in ruins.”

“So it is. The Dwarves are willing to provide stone masons and other artisans to repair the road, if your kingdom is willing to provide guides to keep the Dwarves on the path while making the repairs. Your kingdom would have full use of the improved road.”

“And your counselors have advised you of the feasibility, the desirability of this?” the king said, eyebrows raised. His tone was of frank incredulity.

I didn’t blink. “The Dwarves are coming home to Erebor, King Thranduil. As ruler of your own kingdom, you know the yearning of a folk for a lost land, and the joy when that lost land is returned. Our leaders bow to the inevitability of our folk seeking to return to their lost home. Knowing that, we seek to prepare our allies and neighbors of this coming emigration, so that they can help us guide it most effectively. That is why I am here, so that you have a say so as not to annoy your folk, and we have your wisdom to help your folk and ours to remain secure against our mutual enemies. There are many things to consider, but with a fair exchange, we can make the most of it for both Elves and Dwarves.”

The king paused for what seemed like a very long time. Then suddenly he looked up, measured Lord Elrond, then Gandalf, then me. He sat back, took up his staff, and held my letters out to Ondine without looking at her.

“I acknowledge Kíli as ambassador of the Blue Mountain Dwarves, and of Dwarvish affairs for the blessed city of Imladris.”

It had been too easy. He’d conceded too quickly, and too easily. But I didn’t react, merely bowing to him, as did my counselors – except for Lord Elrond and Gandalf, of course, who merely nodded.

“I would like to present you with a small gift, King Thranduil,” I said when I had straightened. I took the potted vine from Teth and took a couple of steps forward to hold it up to show the king. “This is a crimson flowerhorn vine from my garden in Imladris. It’s not common in this part of Middle Earth, and I thought that, as a connoisseur of beautiful things, you would appreciate it. I hope that as this vine grows in beauty and vigor, so does a firm friendship grow between the Blue Mountain Dwarves and the Woodland Realm.”

I handed the pot carefully to Ondine, who took it up the steps to show the king. He was interested enough to touch one of the blossoms, and arrange one of the trailing vines back onto its support. His expression changed from coolly regal to something more animated, so perhaps my gift had been the right one. He looked back down at me from his throne and nodded, this time with a hair more warmth.

“It is a unique gift, for which I thank you. You are correct that there is nothing similar in my realm. I treasure rare flowers, and this is something I will enjoy.”

I bowed again. “Then I am glad.”

Ondine came back down the steps with my letters under her arm and my plant in her hands. She bowed to me, and gestured for me to follow her out.

The problem with this kind of duel was that you didn’t know whether you’d made a fatal mistake or not until someone told you after, at which point it was too late do anything about it. But I went out as if I’d won it, head high, without a look back, without a look around, without anything but calm on my face, as Master Dwalin had trained me to do.

I hoped he wouldn’t have called me something unspeakable. My friends would tell me soon enough.

 

* * *

 

_“Are you glad now that you did not manage to assassinate the Dwarf?” Legolas murmured, as soon as Kíli’s entourage had passed out of earshot. His voice was carefully neutral, but Thranduil heard disapproval in it all the same._

_“And why should I be glad of that?” he replied coldly, looking down at his son._

_“Because for whatever reason, he is not the typical surly, sniveling, duplicitous Dwarf, and he will be more inclined to negotiate a treaty favorable to both our folk rather than merely his own,” Legolas said evenly as he watched the Dwarf’s party leave the throne room._

_Thranduil agreed with his son, but didn’t voice his agreement. “I want to know why he isn’t on the throne of Erebor. By rights he should be, and if he is not, then I wonder what sort of agreement he can make, in truth.”_

_“He is the legitimate ambassador of the Dwarves in the Blue Mountains, who will eventually come to Erebor. And the highest of High Elves vouches for him, as well as one of the Istari.”_

_Thranduil had noted the Dwarf’s two most important counselors as quickly as his son had. They were here for more than a treaty on behalf of long-wandering refugees. Did they use the Dwarf for their own purpose, and if so, what was it?_

_“At dinner, see if you can find out why the Dwarf is not Erebor’s king from Tauriel. She will talk to you.”_

_“She has no reason to, father.”_

_“She owes you a debt. That will give her reason to talk to you.”_

_Legolas’s face was as impassive as ever, but his hand tightened on the arm of his chair. “You owe her and the Dwarf a debt, as well, for my life. And I did not ask you to lift Tauriel’s banishment only to make her a spy.”_

_“Of course not. But it is convenient nevertheless.”_

_Legolas’s expression was openly disapproving, but Thranduil didn’t rebuke him as he would anyone else. “And what will you do while I speak to Tauriel?”_

_Thranduil’s eyes narrowed. “I will speak to the high lord of Imladris. There is more afoot than we know.”_

 

* * *

 

What surreal feelings that swirled through me as I walked away from King Thranduil’s throne room. How many hundreds – no, thousands – of times had I entered that chamber as a denizen of the Woodland Realm, most of them as the captain of King Thranduil’s guard? How many thousands of reports had I made, and how many orders had I received? How long had my life revolved around this room and its ruler?

Today, for the first time, I had entered as an outsider. I’d made no report, received no orders. Today, the king had barely looked at me, and when he had, his gaze had been a closed expression, the same expression he reserved for the ministers of trade delegations or heads of craft guilds. When he’d turned that cautious glare on me, I’d met it with a rising sense of relief, of liberation. I was no longer his subject. As Kíli had removed himself from a stultifying life in Erebor, so I had removed myself from an empty one in the Woodland Realm. No matter that King Thranduil had lifted his ban – I would never return here as his subject.

Coupled with the realization of my freedom had been pride at how well Kíli had conducted himself through his ceremony. He had been poised, confident, and calm. He had done a masterful job of showing how much he respected Lord Elrond and Gandalf, which had registered with the king, who was a master of reading intent. While Kíli had accorded him all the respect due him, he had not accorded him one bit more, and the king had noted how deeply he had bowed to the high lord and the wizard. The very presence of both such eminent folk had also impressed the king, so he had not pressed Kíli nearly so badly as I had seen him do countless times to others. Then again, Kíli had been very direct, more so than many, and the sheer openness of his answers had given the king pause. King Thranduil did not like change, and was rarely trustful of frankness, seeking hints of the hidden intents that he was so fond of. I would speak to Lord Elrond at my first opportunity, to warn him that the king would likely seek to talk to him privately.

I let none of my pride or relief show as I left the throne room. No one in our entourage did, either, I was pleased to note – and then smirked at myself. All of the Imladris Elves were far older than I, even Giriel, and had had centuries more than I to learn proper court decorum. I considered that as Ondine led us to the antechamber off the throne room where the court scribe carefully transcribed copies of Kíli’s letters for the king, then Kíli was given the precious originals back. Teth and Lindir took the letters back to our suite, then it was time for the feast.

“How did I do?” Kíli whispered when Ondine moved away to check on the feast preparations.

“You were perfect,” I assured him, which drew a sudden spasm of laughter from him, quickly suppressed. “What, _a’maelamin_?”

“This morning I kept thinking how perfectly staged everything about the king’s entrance was, and how lucky I was that you didn’t care for that sort of thing, and now I find that I’ve gone and done it myself. I hope you’re not disappointed, _amrâlimê_.”

I chuckled. “There is no comparison. In any way.”

“Good,” Kíli replied as our companions gathered around. Kíli looked around at us with a grin. “Will I do, then?”

“You will do very well,” Gandalf nodded. He glanced at Lord Elrond.

“Do not be surprised if the king seeks to speak privately with you, my lord,” I whispered to Lord Elrond. “He was entirely too easy on Kíli, perhaps because you and Gandalf were present.”

“I thought so, too,” Kíli added.

“As did we,” Lord Elrond glanced at back Gandalf. “I will expect a discreet request, then.”

We had no time for more, as Ondine was returning to us. Still, as Giriel came to my side, she gave me a private smile. “ _Osellë_.”

I gave her a small bow of thanks, but she knew the sentiment behind my gesture was not small. Our babe, however, chose to be more definite in revealing her feelings, as she looked back towards the throne room from Giriel’s arms.

“Blgth,” she said. That was the word she used for cheese that was too sharp for her taste. Giriel and I locked gazes. Our babe had summarized the king most succinctly.

“At least her diaper is still clean,” Giriel observed irreverently, knowing that no one could infer what she meant from such innocuous words. My lips trembled, and we both had to smother laughter.

“Oh, Míriel,” I breathed.

“What, is the bairn all right?” Kíli looked up, concerned.

“The babe is in fine form,” I assured him, drawing more silent laughter from Giriel. “Look, there is Ondine. They are forming the receiving line.”

Kíli, Gandalf, Lord Elrond, and I were ushered to our places, while Lindir and the Orc Spawn were shown into the hall, as they would not be part of the receiving line. For the first time, King Thranduil did not stand at the head of the line; Lord Elrond did, as befitted his status as the highest lord of Imladris. The king stood beside him, with Gandalf, Kíli, and I after him.

At the last moment, Legolas came to stand beside me, signaling the end of the receiving line. I bowed to him and smiled, gratified to receive a small smile in return.

“You look well,” he murmured, holding my eyes.

“So do you. I am glad.”

“May we talk later?”

“Of course,” I agreed without hesitation.

Legolas seemed surprised, but his smile warmed. “Thank you. Until then, I hope we can endure the oncoming throng as friends.”

Legolas had never liked the formalities of the court, but had dutifully soldiered through without complaint. “I have never stopped being your friend, Legolas. As I know you have not stopped being mine. Thank you for interceding with your father on my behalf.”

“You deserved no less. Ah, here comes Bethian. Until later, then.”

“Yes.”

We turned back to the oncoming line of Woodland Elves, eager to meet their unexpected visitors. I suspected that the formal court dinner had not been so well attended in centuries, given how long the line stretched down the hall. As I had warned my friends, the parade of clothing and jewelry was notable, in sharp contrast to our more subdued appearance; still, I preferred the ways of my new home. The colors and styles might not have been so bright, but they were richer, and more approachable as well as more regal. I squeezed Kíli’s hand, and we exchanged a quick smile before the deluge descended.

Most of the Elves who bowed over their murmurs of greeting were familiar, if only by sight. There were the usual high-ranking Elves, such as counselors, heads of guilds, and so on. There were a variety of social climbers, advisors, wealthy social orchestrators, as well. All kept to the protocol, where Ondine gave their names to Lord Elrond, he greeted them, they responded, and so on down the line. It was a decidedly odd feeling to have these eminent Elves offer bows to the onetime captain of their king’s guard.

Beside me, Kíli murmured and bowed as if he’d done this all his life. He might be shorter than Elves, but he had his own grace, and he was handsome enough for most of the Elf maids to smile a bit wider to him. I think he caught on, for he gave me a wink when the line paused briefly.

At length, the line ended, and Lord Elrond led the way into the great hall full of tables laid for the feast. I was surprised to find the receiving party would be seated together at a round table in the center of the rest, with the rest of the Elves gathered at outlying tables. Giriel and Rhiannel already stood by the central table with Míriel, for there was a place for her between Kíli and me. When Lord Elrond took his place, then the king, then Kíli and I, and then finally Legolas, the rest took theirs. Giriel and Rhiannel arranged Míriel in her chair, left the bag of her things by her, and left to find their own places at the next table. Giriel offered me a wink before she moved away.

King Thranduil was not one for longwinded speeches, so the fair words that preceded the food were brief. Speaking first, Lord Elrond set the tone by thanking the king for his generous hospitality, and offering his pleasure to meet those from the Woodland Realm. The king spoke eloquently of the honor of hosting the lord of Imladris, and of warm relations between the two realms. Gandalf thanked his host, and offered a short blessing on the auspicious meeting of realms. When it was Kíli’s turn, he spoke no less eloquently – or briefly – of his pleasure to be a guest of the king, and his wish for fast friendship between all free peoples.

Duty dispensed, we set to dinner.

How misleading it would be to list all the dishes or describe the beautiful music, for while both were remarkable, I cannot say that I enjoyed either. The care needed to school my words and expressions overshadowed them. While I hadn’t ever attended one as I did tonight, I had overseen many, and in doing so I had quickly tired of their tedium. My time in Imladris had not improved my appreciation. Kíli was no more enthused than I, but we quickly worked out a game that gave us both moments of repose. When he talked to the Elf counselor beside him, I tended Míriel. In a few moments, he would tend our daughter, and I would talk to Legolas beside me. I held to the Orc Spawn’s agreement to reveal nothing of import, and so I steered Legolas to speak of his travels during the last two years. Occasionally Míriel would provide comic relief by enjoying something openly, or deciding she had had enough of bread and wanted fruit, thank you. Still, her sweetness was not enough to keep me from wishing the feast would end. No one should have to work so hard for salad and a few cakes!

The only interesting part was to watch King Thranduil and Lord Elrond take the measure of each other. The Woodland Elf was taller, more striking in appearance, but the lord from Imladris had an undeniable gravity that drew the eye. His gaze was deeper, more considering, and certainly wiser. The two proved the old saying about these two branches of the Eldar – Imladris Elves offered more wisdom, and Woodland Elves offered more danger.

At long last, the last cake was served, and the last glass of wine was poured. Kíli had found plenty to eat; plates of venison and stews of hares had sustained him as well as Gandalf, and the many breads and fruits had filled in the corners. Thankfully, no prawns had come to the table, which surely relieved us all, but especially Giriel.

Finally, finally, we were allowed to make a graceful exit, and Ondine led us with all ceremony back to our suites. We were bid an official good night, and we separated to enter our separate suites.

I no sooner shut the door on all the posturing that Kíli armed his way out of his coat, stripped off his tunic, and flopped down on the nearest settee.

“Valar, I’ve never worked so hard for my supper before! What a lot of bowing and pointing of elbows at the exact right angle and sipping of soup! It’s more work to eat the food that way than there is sustenance in the food!”

I laughed as I handed Míriel to him. “Now you know why I didn’t regret appearing at such a supper before.”

“I do! Oh, Miri, it’s good to be past all that, isn’t it? Here, let’s take off your slippers and your gown and have a crawl on this fine carpet, yes? We are finished our labor for the day, and now we have a moment to play.”

A knock sounded on the door. I groaned, and so did Kíli. We exchanged looks, and with another groan Kíli got up and went to the door.

“Apparently,” he exhaled, “we are not finished our labor for the day.”


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. The conversation between Lord Elrond and King Thranduil is up! Be a fly on the wall as they mull Dwarves, wizards, treaties... and nasty jewelry.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the conversation!

_Finlor walked slowly back from the feast, congratulating himself on the wisdom of removing himself from Flirlyn’s company for the evening. That flighty maid would have insisted on going through the receiving line to see the high lord of Imladris, the wizard, and the exotic-looking Dwarf with silver rings in his ears. It had been smarter to slip into the feast after the receiving line had ended, so he could find a chair on the outskirts to watch the visitors without calling attention to himself. Yes, he was sure of it – the lord and the wizard had all the signs of power about them, even though neither of them revealed any sign of a ring. Strong enchantments, then, and well worth bringing out his third ring. A fool might consider this ring of little value, for it did not urge, persuade, or convey a glamour. It did, however, render the wearer invisible. It might be profitable to wear that ring on a long walk tonight, just to think about the possibilities that visitors to the Woodland Realms offered... and if his path took him near the visitors’ suites, so much the better._

* * *

 

I opened the door with a groan, but brightened when I found Lindir standing between the Imladris guardsmen who kept watch. Good – it wasn’t anyone from the Woodland Realm. Any greeting died on my tongue, however, when Lindir put a finger to his lips and gestured for us to follow him. Tauriel gathered up Míriel, I armed my tunic back on, and we followed Lindir to Lord Elrond’s suite. Gandalf was already inside, as were the rest of the Orc Spawn.

“Only a few moments more, and then I will leave you to retire,” the lord said softly. We all stood closely to catch his soft voice. “All of you did well, for which I salute you. Tauriel, I offer you an extra thank you.”

“The king asked for a private word?” I guessed.

Lord Elrond nodded, a wry expression on his face. “And so he will have it. First, however, let us compare impressions of the feast. Gandalf?”

“The rabbit stew was most pleasant,” the wizard mused, but his lips revealed a mischievous smile. “The honey cakes were also worth mention, as was the wine. As for the dinner conversation, it was most tedious. I will not bore you by repeating it. The ones who might offer something more interesting are Giriel, Rhiannel, Tethrandil, and Lindir, as they sat at other tables.”

The three Orc Spawn and Lindir looked at each other with inquiring faces, and it was Teth who spoke first. “Our hosts were most curious about us, to be sure. The Elf maid next to me pressed quite hard about why we were here, and why Kíli was with us. I made a mistake to say that all would be revealed in time as the lords chose, because this court seems to lust after gossip to a degree we cannot fathom.”

 “And so they pressed you harder,” Lindir nodded. “I met the same reaction.”

I snickered when the Imladris Elves shook their heads in wonder, because I’d always thought that they were the biggest lovers of gossip I’d ever met. From what Tauriel told me, however, while gossip in Imladris was merely a popular hobby, in the Woodland Realm it was political survival.

 “I sat between two Elves who were quite rude,” Giriel said flatly, her voice hard. She cast a glance at Tauriel, then me. “They asked far too many probing questions about the bond between the two of you. I’m sure you know what the gist of them was. I would have liked to drag them both onto the sparring courts and thrash them, but I merely expressed my sympathy that the Woodland Realm had no examples of bonding, and ignored the entire question of Elves and Dwarves.”

“They were Emroth and Hirian,” Tauriel explained matter-of-factly. “They are purveyors of scandal. Where there is none, they can generate it for you at a price.”

Tethrandil and Lindir had had similar exchanges, if on subjects less rude, but Rhiannel looked thoughtful. Our philosophical Orc Spawn usually looked thoughtful, but this expression was unusually intense. Lord Elrond noticed as quickly as I.

“What do you consider, Rhiannel?” the high lord asked.

“I noticed an interesting Elf,” Rhiannel began slowly. “I did not speak with him. I did not even meet him, nor did any of you. He did not come through the receiving line, but slipped in afterwards, and found his place at a table on the edge of the room with a clear view of you, my lord. He spoke very little, but seems to be held in some sort of regard, for many desired to speak with him. He spent his dinner with one eye on all of you, though he gave the appearance of attention on those around him.”

“What did this Elf look like?” I asked.

“His hair was quite dark – it was hard to tell in the lamplight whether it was dark brown, but I think it was black. Equally dark eyes. Dressed in green robes, as of course so many of the Woodland Elves were. I wonder if that was by design, to make him look less memorable.”

“Did any of the rest of you notice this Elf?” Gandalf asked, but none of us had. He looked concerned, and exchanged a deep look with Lord Elrond. “Tauriel, do you know the Elf that Rhiannel describes?”

“Where did he sit, Rhiannel? Could I have seen him?”

Rhiannel shook his head. “He was at a table at your back, Tauriel.”

“Convenient,” Tauriel exhaled. “There are many Elves who fit that description. Most of my close acquaintances were in the guard, and I doubt if this Elf was a guardsman. For obvious reasons, I did not associate much with the court.”

“If any of us sees this Elf again, make note of it to the rest of us,” Lord Elrond asked. “Now, I will have my conversation with King Thranduil. Gandalf and Kíli, I am sure you are both eager to find your beds, but stand firm for another hour, in case something develops. The rest of you, take your refreshment. We will meet at breakfast in the morn to confer.”

Gandalf grunted acceptance, and Tauriel cast me a look as I nodded my agreement. We collected Míriel from Lord Elrond’s silky carpet, and made our way back to our suite.

 

* * *

 

_Gandalf lingered in Lord Elrond’s suite after the Orc Spawn retired. When Lindir took himself off to the closet to find suitable attire for the high lord’s meeting with the king, the wizard bent close._

_“You felt it?”_

_The high lord nodded. “Someone here has a ring.”_

_“Not the king,” Gandalf added._

_“Agreed. I sensed it when we entered the cavern, and again at dinner. But I could not narrow focus to identify who.”_

_“Nor I. The rings are not powerful, but subtle. I am more concerned if the bearer is adept enough to sense rings other than his own.”_

_“It would be prudent to assume so.”_

_“I wonder if the king has any sense of them.”_

_“Likely not, but I will inquire if the opportunity arises. Wait here, if you would,_ mellon nin _.”_

_“Of course. Have a care, Lord Elrond. Thranduil is much more powerful than he is wise.”_

_Lord Elrond’s smile was wry, but grimness underlay his humor. “You do not like our host, Mithrandir.”_

_“What I do not like, Lord Elrond, is anyone who employs twice as much whimsy as wisdom, and half as much compassion as pique.”_

_Lindir appeared with a comfortable tunic for Lord Elrond. He held it as the high lord slipped his arms into it. “Then let us hope that I can introduce wisdom and compassion to counterbalance the whimsy and pique.”_

_He left with Lindir in tow._

_* * *_

_Six guardsmen, four from Imladris and two from the Woodland Realm, met Elrond’s eyes as he and Lindir came out into the hall. When the two from the Woodland Realm led the way to Thranduil’s quarters, two from Imladris fell in behind him and Lindir, leaving the remaining two Imladris Elves at the door. He paced quietly, using the walk to arrange his thoughts. He was most curious to see what Thranduil was like in private. He hoped that the king would put aside some of his public flamboyance, and prove wise enough for Elrond to approach the question of the necklace._

_It was not far from the guest suites to the royal apartments, but he had time to consider the little Tauriel had told him about the half a millennium she’d spent in the royal apartments. It had been a bare, lonely time, colored by the king’s coldness. Elrond understood the loss of a wife, for he had lost his own. She had Sailed long ago, and waited for him in the Undying Lands. The pull to join her still simmered as a dull ache, but he was comforted that one day, if the fortunes of war allowed, he would see her again when he Sailed._

_Thranduil, however, had lost his_ a’maelamin _to the savagery of Orcs. To a bonded pair, death was the cruelest fate, for they would never find each other again. All that Thranduil had to anticipate was the ending of his loss, and never its cure. That offered some insight into the perilous nature of Thranduil’s temper, though it did not excuse it. The need for a weakened kingdom to present a forceful front offered more insight, as Kíli had considered. But none of it offered hope for easy negotiation, regardless of topic._

_Elrond expected Thranduil to open with questions about the nature of Kíli’s proposed treaty. He hoped that would be the case. Kili’s cause was valid, and Elrond was glad to ease that to Thranduil’s satisfaction in any way he could. The interesting part of the conversation would be after they moved on from there._

_The doors of the royal apartments opened before Elrond and his guards. He enjoyed a private smile at the blatant display of control, of power, of omnipotence, all conveyed in the way the doors opened silently, without visible means, requiring guests to pause just long enough to realize that the king allowed them in._

_The doorman stood in the center of the anteroom, bowing deeply. The Woodland guards remained at the door, so Elrond entered with Lindir and his guards at his back. The doors swung shut. Before him, the king’s inner apartments were visible through the far anteroom doorway. The king himself was seated before a small fireplace, alone. The doorman approached Elrond._

_“I will inform the king that you are here, my lord.” He hurried forward, bent down to speak to the king, then hurried back to Elrond as the king rose._

_“Your aide and your guards are welcome to stay with me, my lord. I will see that they are well attended.”_

_Elrond nodded to his three attendants, and they bowed agreement. The doorman held out his hand, inviting Elrond to join the king. When he entered the room, the doorman retreated and the doors closed silently behind him._

_The king was in plain black tunic, pants, and soft boots. He wore no crown, not even a circlet, and no jewelry – he was still striking, but much less theatrical. Elrond was similarly attired in dark brown pants, soft boots and burgundy tunic. His ring, of course, was hidden, and his circlet was plain, only enough to hold his hair back. Thranduil came forward, and was quick to offer a bow._

_“I am honored, Lord Elrond. It is good to have a moment to ourselves.”_

_“Your hospitality is most welcome,” Elrond put his hand over his heart. “I, too, appreciate the chance for quiet conversation.”_

_“Wine?”_

_“Please.”_

_Thranduil poured deep red wine into two plain crystal goblets and handed one to Elrond. “To the beginning of the friendship between us,” he offered, holding up his glass._

_Elrond touched his to Thranduil’s. “And to its long duration.”_

_They drank. Thranduil indicated the comfortable chairs before the fire. “Please, be at ease.”_

_“I thank you.”_

_They sat, and Elrond savored another sip of the wine. “An excellent vintage. From Esgaroth, I’m told.”_

_Thranduil nodded. “We receive several vintages, but this one is my favorite. They also offer an excellent dry white vintage I enjoy with prawns.”_

_Elrond thought about the massive river shrimp that had deviled his company’s crossing of the Enchanted River and the Elf maid who’d sworn never to eat prawns again, but made no mention of his folk’s adventure. He was content to wait Thranduil out._

_“I can appreciate why this is your favorite. It’s like velvet on the tongue.”_

_Thranduil smiled. It was not a theatrical expression, but one that appreciated the opinion of another connoisseur. “A perfect description.”_

_They enjoyed a few more sips before Thranduil leaned back in his chair to contemplate his wine glass. Gradually, he and Elrond began to converse, at first of inconsequentials, then of the tasks of statecraft, taking the measure of each other. As moments passed, Elrond found the private Thranduil to be much less flighty than he expected, with a more measured perspective than his reputation led one to expect. There was certainly concern for his kingdom, though it was more abstract than the personal concern that Elrond felt for Imladris. It was clear that the death of his father and so many of his people colored his wariness, and the growing ranks of Orcs he took as the highest alarm._

_“I well understand,” Elrond offered softly. “None of us are immune from their scourge.”_

_Thranduil glanced at him. “They have taken someone from you, too?”_

_Elrond nodded. “My wife. She was too badly savaged to remain in Middle Earth, and Sailed long ago.”_

_Thranduil looked down at the floor. “They killed mine.”_

_The depth of sorrow in Thranduil’s voice was stark. Elrond leaned forward. “You have my deepest condolences, Thranduil. It is a devastating blow to bear.”_

_With an effort, Thranduil pushed his sorrow aside. Tauriel was right; no matter how many years went by, Thranduil would never stop missing his_ a’maelamin _. But as if the king knew Elrond’s thoughts, he took a deep breath, and sought to change the subject to one less painful._

_“This Dwarvish ambassador,” he said slowly. “He was one of the company of Dwarves who followed Thorin Oakenshield to Erebor. His sister’s youngest son.”_

_Elrond nodded._

_“And now the heir to the throne of Erebor.”_

_“By succession, yes. Kíli, however, chose a different path.”_

_Thranduil’s eyes snapped to Elrond’s. “An heir does not merely... ‘choose a different path.’ Why is he not on the throne? Is he in disgrace? Or is there something that renders him unfit?”_

_Elrond contemplated his glass. “Kíli is competent, good hearted, with a strong sense of fairness and compassion. He was strongly urged to take the kingship. If he had wanted it, it would have been his without question.”_

_Thranduil frowned. “He did_ not _want it?”_

_Elrond shook his head._

_“Why not?”_

_Elrond sipped his wine. “Just as the ways of Elves are our own, so the ways of Dwarves are their own. Kíli’s ways are yet another. He is wiser than his years. He had several reasons why he did not consider himself the ruler that Erebor needs now, and I agree with them. Those same reasons are why he considered himself better fit for a more unconventional role, such as ambassador to those with whom his folk have often been at odds. I welcome him in that role. He is a nimble thinker, good at solving thorny problems, down to earth, and realistic in his expectations of himself and others. But I expect you have already taken his measure in those things.”_

_Thranduil considered his wine, then turned his gaze on Elrond. “I assume that Kíli told you of the time he spent in the_ Glawar-galad _within our caverns.” At Elrond’s nod, he continued. “I admit that he surprised me by repairing the mirrors within the cavern, and restoring the light within it. He tended the plants within it, as well. I still do not understand why. I imprisoned his folk, and we were at odds with them at Erebor until the Orcs convinced us of the value of an alliance between Elves, Men, and Dwarves. There was no reason for his actions.”_

_Elrond smiled. “There was every reason, Thranduil. Kíli makes the most of whatever situation in which he finds himself. At the forge, he is a fine smith able to make anything from blade steel to iron pot hooks to fine jewelry. In the guard, he learns all anyone will teach him without complaint, and in return he teaches my guardsmen to ride like Orcs and Dwarvish steppe drovers, and fight against Gundebad Orcs with whatever means are available. At the negotiating table, he is as open to the needs of all sides as he is to his own. I find him quite refreshing.”_

_Thranduil absorbed that. “It is one thing to find him refreshing. It is another to trust him. Do you?”_

_“I do.”_

_Thranduil nodded. “I appreciate your candor. I wonder if I may ask you for a little more of that.”_

_Elrond smiled and tipped his glass to his host. “Of course.”_

_Thranduil nodded in appreciation. “This treaty the Dwarves seek. Is it only what Kíli has stated?”_

_“It is. His mother, the Lady Dís, is the high counselor of the Blue Mountain Dwarves. She is like her brother, Thorin Oakenshield, and her brother’s cousin, Dain Ironfoot – quite stubborn, slow to trust, slow to change, quick to rile. Kíli is much more flexible and patient than all of them, which is why he rightly considered himself the ideal ambassador to help ease the emigration of his folk. He understood immediately how Dwarves and Elves would grate on each other to the detriment of both unless both sides agree to cooperate. Mithrandir has repeatedly stressed the need for Elves, Men, and Dwarves to foster and maintain good relations, and Kíli wholeheartedly supports that.”_

_Thranduil’s face eased some of its doubtfulness, and seemed a bit more reconciled. He put his wine glass aside, and leaned forward. “I thank you for your perspective. If I may ask, you mentioned that you had more than one reason seek a meeting between us. I admit I was skeptical to find the high lord of Imladris as the counselor to a Dwarf, no matter how exalted that Dwarf may be.”_

_Elrond laughed softly. “To be Kíli’s counselor has been a surprising and entertaining education for both of us, but I infer that what you would prefer to know is why else I sought our meeting.”_

_Thranduil looked so surprised that Elrond smiled. “Directness is a trait I share with our Dwarvish ambassador, Thranduil. I much prefer that we know exactly where we both stand. That is what you want to ask, is it not?”_

_Thranduil nodded. “It is. You would not have traveled all this way merely to help a Dwarf negotiate a treaty.”_

_“I would, but I did have another reason. I understand that you are well versed in dragon lore.”_

_The unexpected change of topic sent surprise spasming across Thranduil’s face, and his hand paused in bringing his glass to his lips. “Dragon lore? That... is the last topic I expected you to broach.”_

_“I well understand it. I will tell you a tale, or as much of it as we know to this point."_

_Thranduil refilled Elrond’s glass, then his own, and leaned forward. “Please, I am most interested.”_

_“I cannot tell you the beginning of the tale, but long ago, gold from a dragon’s hoard passed from one hand to another. It was an old hoard, and the gold was fully imbued with the nature of the dragon.”_

_Thranduil winced. “Dragon sickness.”_

_Elrond nodded._

_“Insidious, and very dangerous.”_

_“Indeed,” Elrond nodded again. “This gold found its way into the hands of someone who had it fashioned into a necklace. Given its appearance, I suspect that an Elf designed and commissioned the piece. Given the workmanship, the artisan was likely Dwarvish.”_

_Thranduil’s visage sharpened. “Interesting. How did you make the distinction?”_

_“The design of the necklace is of dreamflowers, which is not something a Dwarf would choose, though they do know a similar flower called a cascading starflower. Dwarvish designs tend to feature more knotwork rather than floral embellishments. The workmanship, however – the way the metal was formed and shaped – features techniques unique to Dwarvish craftsmen.”_

_Thranduil nodded understanding. “An alliance, then?”_

_Elrond shrugged and sipped his wine. “I cannot say. My sense, and that is all it is, is that there was no alliance, but merely a single commission for the Dwarvish artisan to fashion the gold.”_

_“Why do you think so?”_

_“This is where I hope your knowledge can help. What can you tell me about how dragon’s gold afflicts those who possess it?”_

_Thranduil leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers, and leaned his chin on them as he thought. “As the dragon lusts for its hoard, so whoever comes into contact with gold from the hoard it will lust after it to the same degree. The effect is pronounced and instant, irresistible to all but those with an extraordinary force of will, and even those will be sorely pressed.”_

_“Have you found dragon’s gold to be selective at all in whom it affects?”_

_Thranduil shook his head. “It is theoretically possible, I suppose, though I have no knowledge of that occurring.”_

_“Then I have an example of your theory made real. This necklace does not affect Dwarves in any fashion; only Elves. Even that is selective – Nandor are affected to the greatest extent, but Imladris to a lesser degree, if still severely. In addition, it seems that younger Elves are affected more severely than older.”_

_Thranduil’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Fascinating. This is the first example I have heard of such selection.”_

_“Do you know how such selectivity could have come about?”_

_“I do. In this case, I would wonder if the gold were exposed only to Nandor Elves, and not to Imladris Elves or Dwarves.”_

_“Ah, that confirms one of our speculations. So here is the part of the tale I can be sure of.”_

_“Go on.”_

_“An Elf maid of Imladris, Alathiel, had family in Lothlórien. She visited often. In time, she was to marry an Elf from that realm, but that wedding never took place. I recently sent inquiries to Lothlórien, and the Lady Galadriel revealed that many of her family members and her intended died just before the wedding was to occur. The maid confided to Lady Galadriel that she suspected an Elvish alchemist had caused the tragedy. She had had rare and brief conversations with this alchemist over a scant handful of years. He, under the mistaken impression that these few conversations constituted something of depth, had asked her to marry him. She, of course, had refused him, given her long and deep attachment to her intended. A hundred years later the marriage was announced. Among the wedding gifts was the necklace made of dragon’s gold. Her very young sister opened the gift, instantly lusted to possess it, as did everyone she came into contact with. Many members of her family, including her young sister and both her parents, as well as her intended, died in the fight over the necklace. Afterwards, the maid returned to Imladris, never to return to her family’s home again. She died unexpectedly in a riding accident a millennium ago.”_

_Thranduil absorbed this with a grim expression. “A sinister story. How can I help you? To fill in the parts of the story you do not yet know?”_

_Elrond leaned forward to match Thranduil’s posture. “Something much more important, I hope. I would like you to help me end this story.”_

_“If I can, I will. You have more to this story, then?”_

_With a nod, Elrond continued. “When Alathiel returned to Imladris, she brought the necklace with her, but never spoke of it. I knew her personally, and she was an honorable maid. I think she made inquiries in an attempt to remove the poison from the necklace. When she failed to learn anything that would do so, she hid the necklace to keep its poison from affecting anyone else. Perhaps she intended to take the necklace with her when she Sailed, but she died before that could happen. After a thousand years passed...”_

_“Someone found the necklace,” Thranduil surmised._

_“Kíli and Tauriel. He was not affected. She was, but fortunately no harm came of it. He was able to return it to its case –”_

_“Which must have been made of mithril,” Thranduil completed Elrond’s thought._

_“Exactly so, which is what allowed us to experiment. We know the necklace does not affect Dwarves. We know it affects Nandor Elves more than Imladris Elves. We know it affects my folk more the younger they are. I have seen the necklace myself, and I can confirm its implacable effect. I believe that it has also been dipped in dragon’s blood.”_

_Thranduil winced again. “This is a dangerous, dangerous relic, Lord Elrond. The gold is already cursed from its time in the dragon’s hoard. The application of dragon’s blood intensifies that curse, as well as lays another. Melkor first made dragons to devil our folk, as you likely know. They are heartless and subtle beasts, and their blood infuses such qualities into what it touches. In this case, it may provide a further glamour that allows the gold to find the best way to overcome its victims.”_

_“In what way?”_

_Thranduil shrugged. “If the gold alone causes those exposed to it to lust after it, the added blood may subvert the victim’s reason so that they never consider the artificial nature of the lust. For example, you said Maid Alathiel’s young sister came upon the piece first. The blood might have persuaded her that the piece was really hers, and that it needed to be hidden from her sister who would take it from her. A brother or father might think that the necklace was tribute he had earned, and must be protected from theft, even from family members. It is a persuasive intoxicant on top of an already insistent urge. Did the Lady Galadriel offer you any more information?”_

_“Yes. I have two more things to relate. First, Lady Galadriel wrote that Alathiel told her the alchemist was from the Woodland Realm. When she refused his offer of marriage, he left Lothlórien and was said to have returned here, to his home.”_

_The alarm on Thranduil’s face was so stark that Elrond nodded in support._

_“Yes, I am just as concerned as you. I cannot tell you whether this alchemist is here, for a thousand years is a long time, even to an Elf. But if he is, I would not see one with so little regard for his fellows inflict further ruin on any others._

_“Second, I must tell you that at least one Elf in your realm is a concern to me. When I came into your hall this morning, and again when we shared dinner, I sensed the power of magic channeled and wielded through the auspices of a craft taught long ago by the Dark Lord and his followers. Are you aware of this, either the craft or the practitioner?”_

_Thranduil’s eyes widened. “I am not of either. You are sure of this?”_

_“I am. The practitioners of this craft, as far as I am aware, are all from the Noldor line – my own. While I do not possess the knowledge to practice this craft, I keep watch for it, because of the corruption Sauron infused into it, and seek to root it out wherever possible. So you see, Thranduil, why I thought it prudent for us to meet. I stress that Kíli’s intent and the treaty he hopes to make with you are valid, but his work is also good cover for the inquiries I sought to make with you. I hope you and I may join forces to address both his treaty and my inquiries, for both will strengthen the ties between our realms, as well as enhance our security.”_

_Thranduil sat for some moments, absorbing all that Elrond had told him. When he looked up, his expression held no theatricality, no posturing; rather he seemed to weigh everything that Elrond had told him carefully._

_“So we have the Dwarves’ emigration to consider. We also have dragon’s gold and dark magic to combat. Does the dark magic have a focus – that is, an object that embodies or guides it?”_

_“It is most often an element of jewelry.”_

_“So personal adornment of the deadly kind,” Thranduil gave a wry smile, which Elrond shared. “And this necklace... did you leave it in Imladris?”_

_Elrond’s grin was equally wry. “That would have been prudent. Kíli in particular urged that we do so. But Mithrandir shared my opinion that we would benefit from your wisdom if we had the object for you to study. Your familiarity with dragon lore might well tell you things about the necklace that we have missed. Ultimately, we want to render the necklace harmless, or failing that, destroy it.”_

_“That is wisest, Lord Elrond. If this relic affects only Elves, then it will serve no purpose other than a destructive one, and the Valar know we have suffered far too much of that to want more of it.” He sipped his wine. “The wizard... Mithrandir. I have heard tell of wizards – the Istari, I have heard them named. There is one, Radagast, who lives on the western edge of my folk’s lands. He concerns himself mostly with the natural world. Is that Mithrandir’s concern?”_

_Elrond shook his head. “There are only five wizards, and each one is as different from the other as can be. Mithrandir travels mostly among the Free Folk – the Men, the Dwarves, the Halflings, the Eldar – and only the Valar who sent him can say what all of his concerns may be. But I can tell you that his main concern is to guard us against the forces of evil. He is a stout warrior, despite his travelworn appearance. If it came to it, I would trust my life to him without hesitation.”_

_“I have heard him called a meddler,” Thranduil looked up with the ghost of a smile on his face. Elrond nodded without hesitation._

_“So he is, to the benefit of all of us, for his meddling ferrets out the workings of Sauron and his followers. I am very glad that he undertakes to meddle in such things, and by doing so, disrupts them. He is a valued counselor, for he will not tell you what you want to hear, but what you need to hear, without fail.”_

_“Out of curiosity, does this necklace of dragon’s gold affect wizards?”_

_“It does not. It seems to be completely targeted only to our folk.”_

_“I wonder why.” Thranduil pulled at his bottom lip thoughtfully. Engaged in the mystery of the necklace, he was a different creature than the one who had presided over a very public dinner, and Elrond felt the edges of his apprehension ease. “You have this necklace with you, you said. May I see it?”_

_“I had expected you to ask. I will send my aide to ask Mithrandir and Kíli to join us with it.”_

_“Prudent,” Thranduil agreed. “I would like to determine how the dragon’s blood was applied to the piece, and what can be done about it. I would also prefer the presence of those who can keep it from harming either of us.”_

_“Exactly. I will send for them, then.”_

_Elrond rose, drawing the king to his feet, and crossed to the doors of the anteroom. With a few words, he sent Lindir for Gandalf, Kíli, and their ruinous cargo. When they returned, the real work of the night would begin._


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. At last, after a very busy week, I finished this chapter! Tauriel and Legolas have their talk, and King Thranduil gets a look at the nasty necklace. Unfortunately, someone else gets a look at it, too.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the angst as well as the mayhem!

 Kíli and I took Míriel back to our suite in silence, but I didn’t have to speak to my husband to know that his weariness warred with anticipation, just as mine did. Elves were not ones to sleep, but I almost understood how deep Kíli’s craving for that respite was after such a long day – we had ridden out of Mirkwood and into the Woodland Realm, stood for Kíli’s ceremony, and postured during dinner. Even Míriel was subdued, ready to contemplate her toes rather than wrestle with Troli’s doll. But Lord Elrond was on his way to talk with King Thranduil! Millennia had passed since two Elvish lords of such high rank had met face-to-face. I would have given much to eavesdrop on that conversation.

Kíli was just as eager to imagine what the two lords would say to one another, but he was exhausted, and opted to sleep until such time as Lord Elrond sent for him. I thought that was wise, and so we went to bed, Míriel and I lying beside Kili for the few moments it would take for him to fall asleep. He kissed our babe sleepily, smiling at how cross-eyed she was.

“She’ll let you take your rest peacefully, then,” Kíli murmured, kissing my hand as his eyes closed. “Just as well. Wouldn’t do for the visiting bairn to wake up the other dignitaries with her giggling.”

I grinned. “It would be good for them. It had been an age since a babe graced these cavern corridors.”

Kíli snickered, despite being nearly asleep. “Somehow, I can’t imagine the king being as forgiving of a bairn’s racket as Lord Elrond has been.”

“Nor can I,” I agreed, kissing his lips. “Sleep now. I’ll wake you if needed.”

“Hmmm,” he murmured, and within seconds his breathing deepened and his body relaxed. I stroked his beautiful hair, glad to admire him as he slept, and grateful that he was in good health again. Soon enough, I gathered up Míriel and carried her to the sitting room. She was content to snuggle her squeaky ball and doll close, so I arranged her on a settee well flanked with cushions and a blanket where she cooed quietly to herself. I lay down on the matching settee.

Not half an hour passed before a subtle knock sounded at the door. When I opened it, our two Imladris guardsmen stood there, but so did Legolas. I quickly assured them that the blond prince was a welcome visitor, and so the guardsmen stood aside for him to enter.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Legolas offered quietly, when the doors had shut behind him.

“I am glad to. Of course I wanted to thank you properly for interceding on my behalf with your father. That was more than gracious, and I thank you. But I am also glad to see an old friend again.”

Legolas smiled, but it was a pale expression. “I know that the Woodland Realm was a lonely place for you for many centuries, Tauriel. Yet I did not want it to be denied to you, if ever you need to return to it.”

“When my chosen one dies, you mean?” I asked gently, without bitterness.

My frankness caught Legolas off guard, and his startled expression confirmed the rightness of my guess. He nodded, then looked away.

Even if I survived Kíli’s death for long, I had no intention of ever returning here, but to say that to Legolas would be cruel. “It was a kind and generous thought, Legolas. I appreciate it.”

The prince nodded in acceptance, perhaps embarrassed that I had recognized his compassion.

I gestured towards the settee. “Please. Would you like a glass of wine?”

Legolas nodded as he sat down. “I would. Thank you.”

I poured a glass of the vintage he preferred for each of us, handed his to him, and sat at the end of Míriel’s settee.

Míriel burbled faintly to herself and sighed as she held Troli’s doll close, drawing Legolas’s eyes. Something indescribable flitted across his face as he looked at her. I had known Legolas as playmate, prince, and guardsman long enough to recognize regret, and understand its cause.

“She is a beautiful child,” he said bravely. “I am glad that you have found happiness.”

 “Thank you. For my part, I am glad that your father lifted my banishment for your sake as well as mine. It allowed you to return home. He and the kingdom are better off when you are here, and I am glad that you are no longer estranged from each other.”

“You settled in Imladris?”

“We did. It is a haven to many folk. Lord Elrond is wise and a far-seeing ruler, and the city is beautiful, full of everything good and worthy that can be found in Middle Earth. I am honored to call it home.”

Legolas sighed, looked into his wine glass, and sipped it without tasting the excellent vintage. “I would like to dispense with the unpleasant part of our conversation first. After that, perhaps we can speak more easily as the old friends we were.”

My eyebrows rose in surprise. “What unpleasant part?”

Legolas’s smile was bitter. “My father wanted me to tease out the reason why Kili does not sit on the throne of Erebor. I would rather tell you directly that he wants to know, and you may choose to answer me or not. Regardless of your answer, I will have done what he asked, and then we can have a more comfortable conversation.”

How typical of the king, I thought, but didn’t say so. “I am sorry, Legolas. He did not have to make this into an unpleasant task for you, because he could have simply asked Kíli himself.”

“Would Kíli have answered him?”

I laughed at the cynicism in Legolas’s voice. “Kíli is a very direct Dwarf, as are most of his folk. Even better, while many Dwarves are quick to dissemble, and many Elves are full of hidden questions, Kíli is neither, and he’d answer you or your father honestly without hesitation. In fact, when he wakes, you may ask him yourself, if you like. Until then, let us speak as friends, as we have for so long.”

When Legolas’s eyes met mine, they were rueful. “You _are_ happy. More so than you ever were here. I am sorry that I did so little to change that.”

My heart ached for my longtime companion. “What was there to do, Legolas? I had no status, and so my path was lonely. You have too much, and so your path was just as lonely. I was sorry for both of us.”

His smile was fond. “I am not sorry for you now. Only happy. In any case, you chose a prince, if a short one.”

I chuckled. When Giriel had made the same comment at my marriage feast, I’d returned her jibe with the observation that not all of Kíli was short. Legolas would not appreciate such a reply, so I let his mild joke pass. “I did not expect to in any case, or at any height. I do not know why the Valar deemed this bond between an Elf and a Dwarf, but I treasure it, despite its unlikeliness.”

Legolas was saved from finding something to say, for the door to Kíli’s room opened, and my husband came into the sitting room rubbing his eyes.

“Tauriel? I thought I heard voices – oh, Prince Legolas,” he said, focusing his bleary eyes on my friend. He backed towards his room. “I’m sorry to intrude.”

“You do not intrude,” I said quickly. “In fact, if you do not mind, Kíli, Legolas would like to ask you a question.”

Kíli blinked more alertly, and he brushed the hair out of his eyes. “Of course. Ask away.”

Legolas gave me a disgruntled look for putting him on the spot, so I asked for him. “The king bade his son find out why you aren’t King of Erebor. Legolas was honest enough to tell me of this charge rather than trying to winkle it out of me. Since there is no secret about it, I told him he could ask you himself.”

Laughing softly, Kíli plunked himself down on the settee beside the prince. As he slumped against the back of the settee in his rumpled undertunic and trews, bare feet, and waves of hair cascading over his shoulders, he offered a sharp contrast to the impeccably dressed and groomed prince sitting straight beside him. He cast a look at Legolas.

“Don’t tell me you like presiding over folderol like tonight’s supper. Do you?”

“No,” the prince said honestly.

“Neither do I. In fact, I can’t think of a worse way to spend my life. Unless it was to spend my life trying to justify why a Dwarf who looks like me, has an Elvish wife and bairn, and has no interest or aptitude for folderol should be king over a lot of suspicious Dwarves in Erebor when Dain was better suited for it. There’d be so much folderol about me handling the folderol that I’d do no good for anyone. So I found something better to do.”

Legolas’s brow wrinkled. “What did you find?”

“You heard what I told your father about restoring the Old Forest Road. Now there’s a worthy thing to spend time on. When I’m done, both our folk will have a good road to speed our way through Mirkwood, and my folk won’t annoy your folk by wandering hither and yon farther north. That’s a good bargain all around.”

“That is not all Kíli will do, Legolas,” I added, as the fair prince regarded the dark prince with surprise. “In Imladris, he will prepare the émigrés for their new lives, which includes the teaching of lessons about our folk. He will ease the uneasiness between Dwarves and Elves.”

“I’ll have to bash a few heads now and again, I expect,” Kíli said with a mischievous smile. “Dwarvish skulls are harder than road stones, but it’ll come out all right in the end, if I can convince your father to help a bit with the road.”

Legolas swallowed. “Your... rulers let you do this? Instead of being the king?”

Kíli and I both laughed ruefully. “It’s too bad we can’t introduce your father to my mother, Prince Legolas,” Kíli said, shaking his head. “They’d give each other a right bloody race to see which one’s more stubborn, they would. _Maamr_ fought me long and hard, but I held firm, because doing things my way is better for my folk and yours. I have a vested interest in your folk, if you haven’t noticed.”

Kíli winked at me, which almost made Legolas twitch in disapproval, but the Elf held himself to his usual cool aplomb.

“I see,” was all Legolas said.

Kíli grinned. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

Legolas’s eyes widened at Kíli’s cheek, yet despite himself his lips curved up the slightest bit at one corner. “I... think that’s sufficient for now. I thank you for your candor.”

Kíli waved a dismissive hand. “My pleasure. If your father gives you any more little chores of a similar nature, just ask, and we’ll sort them out.”

“I thank you,” Legolas said faintly.

Kíli heaved himself off the settee and stretched, then came to me to stroke Míriel’s blanket, then my hair. He sketched a bow towards the blond Elf. “Back to bed for me, then. Prince Legolas, it is good to see you again, and I hope I’ll see you in the days to come.”

He headed back to his room and disappeared inside. When the door shut, Legolas shot me an incredulous look. “That Dwarf is most irreverent.”

I snickered. “Mithrandir calls him refreshing. I call him irrepressible... but I confess that is one of the things I love most about him.”

We shared a quiet chuckle, but only for a few seconds before another soft knock sounded at the door. Before either of us moved, Kíli’s door opened and he reappeared with a wry glance for me as he went to the door.

“I keep forgetting that you Elves never sleep. But since I’m already up, I’ll get the door.”

When Kíli opened it to reveal Gandalf with staff in hand, his expression sharpened to full alertness. “We’re called?”

Gandalf stepped inside. “So we are. Ah, Prince Legolas. It is good to see you again.”

“Formal?” Kíli asked.

“Of course,” the wizard nodded. “It would not do for you to forget your coat, my boy.”

Kíli headed for his room. “Just be a moment, then. Excuse me, one and all.”

Gandalf made genial small talk with Legolas and me while he waited for Kíli to dress. In short order, Kíli reappeared in a clean black tunic, arming his way into his suede coat. He’d told me about the knives hidden inside it, and I understood that Gandalf was less concerned about the proper dress needed to attend a clandestine night meeting than he was the proper weaponry. Kili bowed again to the prince, more formally now that he was not in his nightclothes, and kissed me as Gandalf offered the prince a bow. They left together with purpose in their steps.

Legolas gave me a hard stare. “Some late night ambassadorial duties, then?”

I met his eyes serenely. “Apparently so. Though I think I heard Mithrandir say something about pipeweed and ale earlier.”

Legolas grimaced in distaste. “The habits of mortals.”

“I don’t think a wizard is a mortal, Legolas. But this one does enjoy the same habits as one. Though in our place, the Eldar are quite fond of wine. Would you like a little more as we talk?”

Legolas resumed his seat, I poured us both more wine, and we went back to our conversation. It was easier, now that Legolas had dispensed with his father’s question, and I was glad to resume our old friendship.

As pleasant as that was, however, I would have rather followed Kíli and Gandalf. After a thousand years, the deadly dreamflower necklace was back in the Woodland Realm. What would King Thranduil have to say about it?

 

* * *

 

I followed Gandalf in silence out of our suite. Just as silently, Lindir waited for us beside six Imladris guardsmen and pair of Woodland Realm Elves. Two of the Imladris guardsmen peeled off to escort our party, and we trooped off into a part of the cavern I hadn’t seen yet.

To anyone who saw us, I might be in the center of the guards masquerading as an ambassador, but in truth, I was also a bodyguard to a wizard as we made our way to see a king about a dangerous relic. A joke surely lurked in this parade somewhere – “a wizard, a Dwarf, and an Elf go into a taproom,” or some such _dahaut_ – but there was nothing to joke about when it came to the necklace secreted among the folds of Gandalf’s grey robes. I kept my hands loosely at my sides, but the knives in the lining of my coat were close by. I kept my expression neutral, but I kept close watch on everything around us as we walked.

Apparently we were going to the king’s private suite, given the rich décor that adorned the wide corridors. Every twenty feet or so, another guardsman stood at attention, too. Was this merely pomp, or was it necessary security? I’d have to remember to ask Tauriel. Lord Elrond’s chambers had lots of folk coming and going, but none of them were guardsmen standing watch.

At the end of our trek, two guardsmen escorted us to a door held open by a bowing doorman. Lindir and our guardsmen stayed behind in the antechamber, and Gandalf and I were bowed into the inner chamber. There was a beautifully carved limestone fireplace where a small fire burned lowly, and more of the lovely silk carpets and intricately carved furniture. Here was another contrast between Imladris and the Woodland Realm – both featured wonderful carvings of plants, but where Imladris designs were sensuously rounded and curved, those of the Woodland Realm were sharper, more angular, and even thorny. The colors were different, too – Imladris favored blues and greens, both paired with golds, like the color of sunlight on water and leaves; the Woodland Realm favored shadowy greens, browns, and burgundies.

Lord Elrond and King Thranduil, both clad in simple tunics, pants, and soft boots, sat in comfortable chairs by the fireplace. Wine glasses and a carafe sat on a small table between them, as if they were two friends enjoying tales long into the night. But the expressions that met my eyes were deeply serious.

I held the lowest rank in the room, so it was up to me to offer the first bow. I duly put my hand over my heart and bowed deeply. “Lord Elrond. King Thranduil.”

Gandalf contented himself with a mere nod of the head. “Lord Elrond, King Thranduil.”

Both kings nodded a bit, but it was Lord Elrond who spoke.

“I have related the history of our relic to King Thranduil. He shares our concerns about it, and has already confirmed and expanded upon some of our conjectures.” He summarized the king’s insights in a few well-organized words. “It is likely that he can bring more of his extensive knowledge to bear on it, but to do that, he will need to see it for himself. I have cautioned him about the dangers. First, though, I will ask you, Kíli, to draw the necklace for King Thranduil as you did for us in Imladris, so that he can study the design without having to withstand the poison of the dragon’s gold.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “If you have paper – ah, you do already. I’ll sketch it for you, then.”

I sat at the desk where pen, ink, and paper were already laid out, and made a careful drawing of the necklace. The two lords and Gandalf stood by the desk as I drew, watching as I reproduced the graceful swirls of stems and leaves dotted with blossoms on the paper. When I was done, I turned it towards King Thranduil.

“The stems and leaves of the flowers are rendered in green gold, and the flower buds in rose gold,” I explained, pointing to the various parts of the design. “The smallest flowers, the buds just opening, are small pink rubies, very clear and with little variance in color – the highest quality I’ve seen. The largest sprays of flowers, the fully opened ones, are all the purest white adamant gems, also of the highest quality.”

King Thranduil bent over the desk to study it closely. “It is a stunning design. I well understand why anyone would be drawn to it without the pull of the dragon’s gold. I have rarely seen such a spectacular piece.”

The king asked a few questions more, mostly about why I thought it crafted by Dwarves, which I answered as thoroughly as I could. But soon enough, the king glanced at Lord Elrond.

“I have learned all I can from the drawing. To know more, I will have to see it.”

Lord Elrond and Gandalf exchanged looks, and Gandalf slowly drew out the mithril box. In his gnarled and weathered hand, the box looked innocuous, though well crafted. I explained what we’d learned about the box to the king, such as how it was made, and how it was not the original container for the necklace. The king listened carefully, studying it as I talked. He was engrossed in the mystery, that was clear, and I liked him a little more because he was one who enjoyed a puzzle, as I did.

_He tried to assassinate you, Kíli. Just keep that in mind, no matter how much he likes puzzles._

“This is how we shall do it,” Gandalf said, when I’d told King Thranduil all I could. He turned the king’s chair by the fire towards the rest of the room. “If you will sit here, King Thranduil, Lord Elrond and I will flank you. Kíli, you will take the box and stand before the king. Under no circumstances should you let either of the lords touch the box or the necklace.”

I eyed Lord Elrond and King Thranduil, but both nodded quick agreement. I exhaled, and took the box from Gandalf. The king sat, Lord Elrond and Gandalf positioned themselves on either side of the king, and I backed up some four or five steps away from the king.

“When Kíli opens the box, you will feel an unimaginably strong urge to have the necklace in your hands,” Lord Elrond cautioned the king. “It will be a terrible test of will.”

The king met his eyes and nodded. “I understand. Do not let me touch it. But you must be nearer to me, Kíli, so that I have a close view for the little time I can bear to look at it.”

Lord Elrond and Gandalf nodded agreement, so I came two steps closer, close enough that Thranduil could stretch out his hand and touch the box if he wanted.

“Are we ready?” Gandalf asked. When we all nodded, he looked to me. “Open the box.”

I took a deep breath, got a good grip on the box, and pried open the clasp. I lifted the lid, confirmed that the necklace lay within, and turned it towards King Thranduil.

His reaction was instant, both a shudder and strangled gasp as if someone had slipped a knife between his ribs. His eyes widened, his hands clenched on the arms of his chair, and it was all he could do not to fling himself at the box. He held himself in place through sheer force of will, gasping in agony as if dragon fire seared him, so hard was it to resist the call of the dragon’s gold.

“Shut the box!” King Thranduil rasped. “Shut the box!”

I slammed the lid down.

King Thranduil went limp, as wrung out as if he’d run for miles. He’d been stronger than I’d expected, for he’d borne the insidious call of the dragon’s gold for a good ten seconds. It had probably felt like a lifetime in hell to him.

Beside him, Lord Elrond stood as serenely as ever, but his face was lined and paler than usual. Gandalf had kept a sharp eye on them both, his staff in his hand.

“Well done, King Thranduil,” Gandalf said.

“Indeed,” Lord Elrond echoed. “It was a sore trial, no easier than the first time I glimpsed the necklace.”

I took up the king’s wineglass, still half full, and brought it to him. “This’ll help,” I offered, holding the glass out to him. He took it with a grateful nod of thanks, and tossed the red wine down in a single gulp. He leaned back in his chair, eyes shut.

“By all of the Valar, that is a terrible evil,” the king breathed faintly. “I have never felt anything so compelling other than the stare of the dragon itself.”

I handed the box back to Gandalf, and fetched the carafe of wine. I poured a glassful for Lord Elrond, and refilled the king’s glass as he held it out. The draught steadied both of the lords enough that they breathed easier.

“Were you able to learn anything more about the necklace, my lord?” Gandalf asked the king.

“I did,” King Thranduil replied, taking another deep breath. “It is as you said, Lord Elrond; the necklace has been dipped in dragon’s blood. But I do not think that application was deliberate, for not all of it has been so tainted. I need to see it again to be sure of that, for I did not notice that until just before I asked Kíli to close the box.”

“I do not think it would be wise to look upon it again so soon,” Gandalf ventured.

The king flashed the wizard an exasperated glare. “And waiting will not improve my reaction to it,” he riposted. “Come, I must endure another look to be sure. Knowing whether the blood is present through accident or malice might be important.”

“I agree,” Lord Elrond said grimly. “Give Kíli the box, Mithrandir, and let us be done with this.”

Gandalf handed me the box with plain reluctance, but if I were in the king’s place, I’d want to get such an ordeal over, too. I got the box firmly in hand, and stood in front of King Thranduil.

“At your word, my lord,” I said.

“Open the box.”

I did. The king spasmed just as badly as before, but his eyes were intent on the necklace with more determination than agony this time. After another ten seconds, he shut his eyes.

“Shut the box!” he gasped.

I did, and again, the king and the high lord of Imladris breathed easier. King Thranduil rallied a little faster this time, sitting up to rub a shaky hand over his face.

“Yes, I am sure of it now. Only half the necklace is splashed with the dragon’s blood. Perhaps a mage might have been interrupted while applying the blood, but I think it more plausible that the dragon was slain atop its hoard, and blood from the dying beast fell upon the necklace. Within a few moments of that, no more than an hour afterwards, someone removed the bloody necklace from the hoard and put it in its mithril box.”

My eyebrows went up. “You can tell all of that? That’s amazing!”

The king turned a pleased smile upon me for my unstudied compliment. “I thank you, but it is no magician’s trick. I saw the path of the drops over half of the necklace. Traces of the blood are also on the inside of the box, more than dried remnants crumbling from the necklace would leave. The mithril is an insulator, and so does not suffer the taint of the blood.”

“What else did you learn about the necklace?” Lord Elrond asked.

“Only that Kíli was correct in his assessment of the gems, both rose rubies and adamant diamonds, as well as the green and rose gold,” the king answered. He sat back to sip his wine again. “I felt nothing that would give me a sense of the age of the necklace, so I will consider the last several dragon hunts I took part in. The last was several hundred years ago, and would not be the hoard that contained the necklace, given that you know the necklace was hidden within Imladris over a millennium ago. You said over a hundred years passed between when this alchemist met with the maid Alathiel and the announcement of her wedding, did you not?”

“Yes,” Lord Elrond nodded. “So at least twelve hundred years must have passed since the alchemist came to possess the necklace.”

“I took part in several hunts that long ago, and some even before,” King Thranduil mused. “Very few of them netted beasts large enough to imbue their hoards with as much poison as this necklace shows.”

“Can dragon’s blood make dragon sickness worse?” I asked. “Or can it make the gold seem older, or make it look like the dragon was older?”

“The blood does worsen dragon sickness, but it cannot change the perceived age of either the metal or the dragon,” the king confirmed.

“Is there any way to get rid of the blood?” I asked. “That might make the necklace less beguiling.”

King Thranduil considered. “The blood can be burned away with a hot enough flame. Not a mere candle flame, you understand, but the hottest flame a forge can provide. The heat must be sustained for some time – an hour, perhaps two. That, of course, will melt the gold.”

“Destroying the necklace is a desirable outcome,” Lord Elrond commented.

“Melting the necklace would remove the blood taint, but it would not remove the dragon sickness from the gold,” Thranduil corrected. “Not even the fires from the deepest mountain, or even from a dragon itself, can do that.”

“Are the gems tainted with the blood, too?” I asked.

“The blood coats some of them, and therefore makes them more attractive, but as the gems are not tainted of themselves, heating them would render them harmless.”

“Heating the gems will change them,” I noted. “All smiths who work with gems know how to heat them to change their color, or even to correct some kinds of flaws.”

King Thranduil gave me a surprised look. “You are a smith yourself?”

“I am. Since the necklace doesn’t affect me, I can remove the blood taint and recover the gems. That won’t solve the problem of the gold, but it’ll give us a simpler problem to solve.”

Lord Elrond nodded. “I think it would be wise to do whatever we can to negate this relic. The piece is beautiful, but deadly. Better to destroy it, if we can.”

“I concur,” King Thranduil said. “I would like to send for my son so that he is aware of our plans. I doubt that many such relics exist to devil us, but I would have him know of this one as a matter of statecraft.”

“I understand,” Lord Elrond replied. “I think it wise that we continue to keep all knowledge of this relic hidden until we can destroy it, but I have no objection to the prince being privy to it.”

“Then I will send for him now.” The king rose and gave word to the doorkeeper to summon Legolas, who appeared in short order. We explained all that we knew of the necklace and our plans for it. I was impressed that the prince was as alarmed about the effect of the necklace as the rest of us were, yet still wanted to view it. So I stood by the fireplace with the box, and Legolas stood by his father with Lord Elrond and Gandalf flanking them.

“Open the box,” Legolas said, his jaw clenched against the anticipated pull of the gold.

I opened it, my eyes fixed on the Elves before me. As I expected, Legolas reacted nearly as violently as his father, but the look of shock on Lord Elrond’s face was what drew me.

“Kíli! Shut the box! The necklace is moving!”

I caught the sudden glint of gold and gems, and jerked my gaze down to the box. Sure enough, the necklace seemed to levitate –

Something unseen kicked my knees out from under me, and I went down hard in a heap. Another kick sent the mithril box flying out of my grasp. I rolled over the floor after the box, dimly aware of Gandalf wielding his staff like a weapon, trying to keep three gold-crazed Elves from scrabbling after me. The necklace had vanished, but the mithril box was moving now, yet I couldn’t go after it as the Elves lunged after it. Gandalf’s staff hit the floor of the room with a crack, and power surged through me like lightning. The blast numbed my feet and legs, but it brought the Elves down, so I pulled out my knife and skittered after the box, which was bouncing across the floor like a living thing. I grabbed for it, only to crash into something as hard as a body, yet without substance I could see. I struck out blindly with my knife. When a vicious kick to my abdomen doubled me up, I could only watch helplessly as the box rose from the floor. The necklace appeared in mid air, fell into the mithril box, then disappeared as the box lid slammed down. Then the box vanished as if it were never there.

“Guards!” Thranduil and Legolas both shouted, now that they were no longer under the influence of the gold. When the doors flew open and the guardsmen rushed in, there was a frantic rush around the room, but nothing came of it. The box was gone.

“How was such a thing done?” Legolas panted, helping his father to his feet.

“A talisman of invisibility, I imagine,” Gandalf growled, hiding his worry behind anger. “He or she likely slipped in behind Prince Legolas when he entered, heard us talk, and chose to appropriate the necklace as soon as Kíli revealed it.”

“To come and go without a trace...” King Thranduil’s eyes were wide. He didn’t know whether to look angry or embarrassed, and so looked a bit of both. I didn’t laugh. I well sympathized with him, and my ribs were none too happy at the battering they’d taken.

“Maybe he didn’t leave a trace,” I said grimly, holding up my knife. “But I did.”

The bright silver of my blade was streaked with blood.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. While our intrepid band struggles to regroup, a certain alchemist gloats. But Lord Elrond seems to have a few tricks up his sleeve. Who knew he had the potential to be as sneaky as a mischievous Dwarf?
> 
> Hope you enjoy the revelations!

_Finlor dressed carefully for his walk. Tunic, pants, and the stealthy boots of a thief, all in deepest fuligin– not that the color mattered when he wore his ring of invisibility, but the drama of darker than black garb pleased him – and all in soft, supple materials that made no sound when he moved. He braided his hair into a single long plait, and coiled that at the base of his neck. To hold whatever trinkets he found, he tucked a small suede bag into his belt; to strengthen his luck, he fastened his pendant of protection tightly against his throat, under his tunic where it would not rattle. He took up his third ring, but paused before slipping on his finger. First, he had to enjoy one more look at himself in the mirror, to savor the darkly handsome figure he cut._

_When he finally put the ring on, he enjoyed the sudden winking out of his reflection in the mirror almost as much as he enjoyed admiring himself._

_Enough indulgence. It was time to prowl. When the corridor outside his rooms was empty, he let himself out in silent anticipation._

_He made no sound as he traversed the twining corridors, hallways, public rooms. For the most part, he met no one. On the rare occasion that he did pass other walkers, tonight he was scrupulously careful not to approach them. That was not his usual habit. On most nights, his ring of invisibility allowed him to indulge in a freedom he didn’t have when others observed him. Without the ring, he was reserved and serious. With it, he amused himself by seeing how near he could approach those he passed without them realizing he was there. It was exciting when an Elf flinched or shivered to feel the air stir at his unseen passage. If he was greatly daring, he’d twitch a lock of hair, or tease a flower from the breast of a maid and let it fall at her feet. The sudden catch of the maid’s breath, the quick look around, the shiver of unease, and the rapid retreat of silk-slippered feet... ah, those were more intoxicating than the finest wine from the king’s deep stores._

_He especially liked to discomfit the maids who clamored so much for his attentions when they met him face to face. How he enjoyed their fright when he found them in the corridors, and how he laughed at them when he was safely ensconced in his rooms. It was an addictive pastime._

_Tonight, however, he sought more than idle amusement. He wended his way carefully but purposefully through the corridors, heading for the suites housing the Imladris delegation. It was unlikely that he’d encounter any of them, for they were surely eager for rest after their long journey. He was not particularly eager to act tonight, but rather to reconnoiter so that when opportunity arose, he’d know which suites to target._

_He came to the corridor, but did not enter it. He calmed his breath first, then looked around the corner. Ah, not only the king’s men stood duty tonight, but several from the visitors’ ranks. That was merely a tedious detail, requiring only careful steps and complete silence to overcome. From the placement of the guards, the visitors occupied three suites, one much larger than the others –_

_One of the doors opened. The high lord and his aide appeared. Two of the home guard and two of the visiting guard fell in beside the pair, and they were off. Intrigued, Finlor trailed after them. My, my, what luck! The Imladris lord was about to call on the king. That was certainly interesting enough to linger after the lord disappeared inside the king’s suite. Perhaps something would develop._

_Nothing happened for close to an hour. Finlor was about to retrace his steps to the visitors’ suites when the king’s door opened to reveal the high lord’s aide, an Imladris guard, and a Woodland Realm guard. Was it better to stay near the king’s rooms, or follow the aide? Finlor opted to watch near the higher-ranking visitor. Yes, that was the right decision – the aide and guards soon returned with the wizard and the Dwarvish ambassador in tow. What could they be up to?_

_Not a handful of moments later, Finlor felt the unmistakable pull of the dragon’s necklace. Even after a thousand years, he had not forgotten its compulsion. So long had he studied the necklace that he’d trained himself to set the call of the gold aside, and so he did now. His elation, however, was something to savor for just a moment before he put it aside. After all this time, the necklace had returned to him! All that he needed to do was stretch out his hand in the right moment, and it would be his again._

_The pull abruptly ceased. That likely meant that the mithril biscuit box, or some similarly innocuous vessel, still offered its insulation._

_The pull surged again, and just as quickly ceased again. What were the king and the lord doing? Playing a contest of wills?_

_The door opened, another Woodland Realm guard appeared, and strode briskly down the corridor, returning quickly with Prince Legolas in tow._

_When the doors opened to allow the prince and his guard to pass, Finlor couldn’t resist. He slipped in behind them. The games he’d played for so many years, scaring maids in shadowy corridors, stood him in good stead now, for neither the prince nor the guard sensed him at their backs. When he followed them into the king’s apartments, he stayed by the door where the lamps would not cast his shadow, and listened._

_Interesting – the dragon’s gold did not affect the Dwarf and the wizard. He’d have to watch out for them, then. He smiled indulgently when the king speculated about how the necklace had lain on the dragon’s hoard, soaked up the beast’s blood, and then found its way into a biscuit box. The king was capable of clear reasoning when he wasn’t wallowing in one or another of his fits of pique –_

_The prince wanted to see the necklace._

_Yes! His chance to retrieve the necklace was imminent. All he had to do was wait, wait..._

_Finlor slipped silently forward. When the Dwarf opened the box, all three Elves recoiled, though the high lord controlled himself far better than the inferior Sindar king and his son did. Of course he did – he was Noldor, just as Finlor was, and equally possessed of great wisdom and subtlety, if not so eager to seize opportunity. But the high lord was not inured to the necklace as Finlor was._

_It was childishly easy to snatch the necklace from the box, fell the Dwarf, and kick the mithril box out of his fumbling hands. The box rattled away to rest just beside the doorway, waiting for him, but he had one thing to do first. As the three Elves and the wizard tangled themselves in a knot, he was quick to grab first the hand of the wizard, then that of the high lord, groping for the rings he knew had to be there. But their enchantment was strong enough that he could not feel them, see them, take them. He abandoned the effort and ran for the box. It was just within reach when the wizard’s staff sent power radiating throughout the room, pitching him to the floor. The Dwarf wasn’t affected, and lunged for the box, only to trip over Finlor’s unseen body. Finlor scrabbled to his feet and kicked the Dwarf hard enough to send his breath gusting out of him, which gave Finlor enough time to scoop up the mithril box. He dumped the necklace inside, slammed the lid shut, and stuffed it into the bag –_

_Damn the Dwarf! The vermin drew a knife, struck out blindly, and caught Finlor on the flank. It was all he could do not to gasp. The doors burst open at the cries of the king and prince, and Finlor only just managed to dart around them, bowling over the doorman as he dashed out into the corridor. Several from the Imladris contingent ran towards him, so he flattened himself behind a decorative pillar until they clattered by. Despite the slash across his ribs, he ran silently back to his apartments, slipped inside, and shut the door behind him. Only then did he gasp out a curse at the bad luck of the Dwarf’s strike._

_A few moments later, he’d cleaned and bound the wound. It was not deep, but it stretched from sternum nearly to hip, and was agonizing. It had slashed his beautiful tunic, too, which angered him. He mixed himself a decoction to ease the physical pain, if not the irritation over his damaged clothing. In a few more moments, he breathed with greater ease, and tossed his slashed tunic down the necessary. The velvet and suede had been costly, but he did not wear damaged clothing, no matter how subtle the repairs. He enjoyed a brief consideration of how best to repay the Dwarf for damaging his favorite prowling attire, and another of which tailor would be best to patronize for a replacement tunic. Then Finlor retired to his study to examine his prize._

_He arranged himself on his reading couch, the mithril box cradled in his hands. He chuckled. The mithril box was the same one he’d taken from the dragon’s hoard to hold the necklace a thousand years ago. He wouldn’t risk detection by opening it. Secrecy was worth more than the indulgence of peeking. Besides, he didn’t need another look at the necklace, not after the clear view he’d of it in the king’s apartments._

_Instead, Finlor enjoyed a long, indulgent gloat. Against all odds, the necklace he’d sent to chastise a smug and foolish maid had returned to him. This time, he wouldn’t waste its power on a maid._

_The lord of Imladris was a much meatier target._

 

* * *

 

In midsentence, the worst feeling of lust came over me. It was not Legolas sitting beside me that I craved, nor even my beloved _a’maelamin_. No, this horrible, consuming sensation had not set me afire for anyone, but for a thing. For gold. For that terrible, terrible necklace. Oh, Valar, even this far from the king’s chambers, I felt the irresistible drive to put on that wretched –

“Tauriel? Are you ill? You blanched as white as snow.”

The call of the necklace ceased, and I was able to meet Legolas’s concerned gaze. “Did you feel that?”

The prince looked distinctly uncomfortable. I would have wagered that he’d felt what I had, if at much less intensity. But perhaps he was a circumscribed as I was, for he ventured, “Feel... what?”

I swallowed and put my hand to my brow. I would have preferred to tell Legolas about the necklace so he could guard himself, but Lord Elrond had deemed silence safer, and I would not gainsay that. “It’s gone now. I fear the lengthy day has caught up to me. I am sorry.”

“Of course,” Legolas stood. “Forgive me for staying so long. I am glad to see you again.”

“And I you, _mellon nin_.” I rose as well, and we walked to the door. “I look forward to seeing you often in the coming days.”

“So do I. Until then, rest well.”

Legolas left with little fanfare, and just in time. Again the pull of the necklace flooded me, so unexpectedly that I gasped. I grabbed for the back of the settee to steady myself.

“What in all the _skatorz_ is that?” Giriel burst into the sitting room from her chamber with Rhiannel at her heels. At sight of me, she rushed forward to take my arm and guide me to the settee where Míriel lay. “Tauriel, do you feel it, too? Oh, Valar, of course you do! Here, sit.”

Rhiannel had already gone to Tethrandil’s door to fetch our friend. “Yes, I felt that,” our oldest Orc Spawn said before anyone asked him. He was grim-faced as he found the wine carafe and poured a glass for me. He sat beside me to give me the glass. Giriel was on my other side next to Míriel. Our babe was crying.

“She never cries,” Giriel said angrily, as I gathered my daughter up. “She feels it, too. Valar, what is that?”

The sensation was gone, and my breathing calmed. Rhiannel drew a chair near so we could gather close to comfort ourselves. Míriel’s sobs stopped, but she looked among us unhappily, holding her arms out to us for reassurance.

“That was sorcery, or something evil,” Rhiannel said flatly as he took Míriel’s tiny hand. “We need to find Kíli and Lord Elrond, to protect them against whatever this is.”

“They are with the king, and –” I blurted without thinking, but faltered when three sets of Elvish eyes bored into me.

“You know what that was?” Giriel demanded. “You do! Out with it, Tauriel. We’re the Orc Spawn.”

“I know we are. But Lord Elrond –”

“Oh, so there _is_ something afoot!” Giriel cut in. “I don’t care what Lord Elrond said, Tauriel. Tell us what that was. Your _amrâlimê_ could be in danger!”

“Kíli is in no danger from what we felt,” I admitted.

“Is Lord Elrond? Or Lindir?” Tethrandil and Rhiannel chorused.

Oh, Valar, the insistence of friends... “As much as we are,” I conceded.

“Out with it, then!” Giriel insisted. “We’re Kíli’s advisors, but we’re also Lord Elrond’s protectors. Please, Tauriel!”

I sighed. “Yes, there is something afoot. I tell you this in strictest confidence, and against Lord Elrond’s order, so do not get me into trouble. We are not here only to negotiate Kíli’s treaty...”

As quickly as I could, I told my friends about the wretched necklace Kíli and I had found in Alathiel’s long abandoned house. I didn’t have time to tell them every nuance before the necklace called again. This time, however, the duration of the call was not merely a few seconds. As it extended, I stiffened, desperate to escape.

“Something is wrong,” I moaned, clutching Míriel close. “No one, not even Lord Elrond, can endure this poison for so long. Something is wrong!”

“Can you get us to the king’s apartments from here?” Rhiannel asked. At my nod, he said, “Then let us go.”

“I cannot!” I protested. “None of us can. The closer we get, the worse the necklace will devil us.”

“All the more reason to go,” Teth urged. “Our lord is in more danger than we, and we are charged to help him!”

I gulped. “I will try. It affects me far more than you, but I will get you as close as I dare.”

“Then come!” Rhiannel, repeated with more insistence. “Let us go now!”

 “Let us go armed,” Giriel growled, pulling out her knife. Our comrades were equally prepared, so I gathered up my courage and my daughter, and we hurried out to the corridor where our Imladris guardsmen milled in confusion. They, too, had felt the call of the necklace. I led us swiftly towards the king’s apartments, and reached the last hallway before the call of the necklace abruptly ceased. We ran forward with more speed now, and soon found the guards in disarray, and Lindir and the doorman in the anteroom struggling to their feet. We came into the king’s salon in a rush. Legolas and the king sat on a settee looking drained, while Lord Elrond stood talking to Gandalf by the fireplace; all of the Elves looked pale and upset. Kíli prowled about the room, looking for I didn’t know what; his jaw was set, and he had a bloodied knife in his hand. He came to us as soon as we burst in.

“What happened?” the Orc Spawn clamored.

“Somebody took –” He stopped suddenly, looking at our comrades.

“They know,” I confessed. “I felt the gold, Kíli, and so did they.”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Giriel chimed in. “It made her so sick that I badgered her until she told us. When we felt it the third time, it went on for so long that we ran here because we thought you and Lord Elrond were in danger.”

“How could someone just dart in and take it?” Tethrandil drew us back to the main concern.

Kíli snorted angrily. “The _kurvanog nar thos_ was invisible, that’s how, and fast as lightning. We didn’t have a chance. I got lucky with my knife, but that didn’t slow him at all.”

“Was anybody hurt?” Rhiannel asked.

Kíli shook his head. “I don’t think so. I got a boot to the ribs, but nothing worse. Gandalf is fine. The Elves are badly shaken, the lot of them, so Gandalf took charge of things, but I hope that’s the worst of it. I was looking for clues before the room got too full, so we should find out.”

We separated, Rhiannel going to Lord Elrond, and Giriel and Tethrandil to Lindir and the doorman. Gandalf beckoned to Kíli, so I went to Legolas and his father.

“Are you both all right?” I asked, kneeling by the settee.

They were somewhat the worse for wear; Legolas sported a bruised cheekbone, and the king had a cut over his right eye, which under the bleeding was purpling nicely. I snuck a look at Lord Elrond, but he had dodged the fray well enough that I didn’t see any injuries. I imagined what would have happened if the three Elves had been armed and Gandalf and Kíli had not been present – the same carnage that had taken so many of Alathiel’s family a millennium ago. In a few seconds, the Woodland Realm could have lost its king and heir, and Imladris its lord – unimaginable devastation for all of the Eldar.

“Both of us are shaken, nothing more,” Legolas said, for his father was still too shocked to find his voice. Oh, Valar; Legolas and I had both seen that livid glare of fury before, and in seconds he would launch into full voice. That would help no one, not even the king.

“A glass of wine will rally you,” I said, plunking Míriel unceremoniously in the king’s lap so I could fetch the carafe and glasses. He stiffened in surprise, but fumbled to keep the babe on his lap as I poured two glasses of wine. I got the glasses into their hands quickly, then twitched Míriel’s blanket from around her. I moistened a corner of it in the wine and dabbed it against the cut on King Thranduil’s forehead.

“It is not too bad,” I said. “Perhaps an inch, if that, and shallow. It will not need a bandage, I think.”

The king drew breath to shout, but Míriel looked up at him with a concerned look, and patted his arm. “Teth?”

“No, Míriel,” I said softly as I dabbed. Míriel’s surprising question had distracted the king from his fury, as I’d hoped, and he regarded her in bemusement. “This is not your Uncle Teth. This is King Thranduil. He has hit his head. And that is Prince Legolas.”

Míriel patted the king’s long white hair and looked at me dubiously. “Teth hurt?”

“King Thranduil, not Teth. Yes, he has white hair like your uncle, doesn’t he? He’ll be better soon.”

Míriel met the king’s eyes, which were still hot, if not as much, and patted his arm again comfortingly. “Bet’ soon.”

Despite himself, Legolas stifled a chuckle, which I scrupulously ignored as I put down the blanket.

“The bleeding has stopped, my lord. Thank you for holding Míriel while I tended it.”

“You... are welcome,” the king said stiffly, still regarding Míriel as if he couldn’t fathom her. Happily, though, his rage had passed, and just in time, for Lord Elrond drew near.

“The bruise on your cheek is not badly swollen,” I directed to Legolas as I took Míriel back in hand. “Lord Elrond, I hope you suffered no injury in the attack?”

“Thankfully not,” the high lord confirmed. “Thranduil, Legolas, you are recovering?”

“We are,” King Thranduil acknowledged. “Did anyone find sign of our attacker?”

 “It seems that Kíli’s knife made the only point in our favor,” Lord Elrond admitted.

“Do we even know the nature of the thief?” the king growled.

“He’s an Elf,” Kíli came up behind the high lord in time to answer the king’s question. “He went down when Gandalf struck his staff, just as the three of you did. I tripped over him trying to get to the box. He’s as tall as you, and as slender.”

“You say ‘he,’” Legolas noted. “Do you know that for sure?”

Kíli grunted. “That bastard gave me a good boot in the ribs, he did. A maid would have been hard pressed to hit that hard. And he felt... how should I say... not as soft as a maid would. A right lot of whipcord, he was.”

“Did you get any clues as to his identity when you struggled with him, Kili?” Lord Elrond asked.

“His clothing was suede and velvet,” Kíli reported. “Close fitting tunic and pants, I think. And those boots of his... they weren’t working boots, I can tell you, or he’d have staved my ribs in. These were soft, with light soles.”

“A creature of stealth, then,” King Thranduil hummed. “Is my captain of the guards here yet?”

“I’m here, my lord,” Previl replied, out of breath. I’d known him for many years as a reputable guardsman and worthy leader, if not overly imaginative. He’d become my successor, then. He nodded to me in recognition, and I nodded back.

“The cavern is to be sealed until further notice,” King Thranduil ordered. “I also want every alchemist in the kingdom summoned to appear before me by noon tomorrow. The only exceptions are those who are not able-bodied, and whose condition is known to have afflicted them before today. Alert all apothecaries to watch for anyone seeking help for knife wounds. If any of them sees such injuries, they are to alert the guard at once. If you receive such an alert, captain, take the wounded Elf into custody without delay, and alert me immediately.”

“Yes, my lord,” Previl bowed, and set off to put the king’s orders into action, taking several of the Woodland Realm guardsmen with him. Legolas got up to set the duties of the remaining guardsmen, and after a quick word with Lord Elrond, Lindir did the same with the Imladris folk. In short order, the only ones who remained in the king’s apartments were he and his son, Lord Elrond, Lindir, and the Orc Spawn. Apparently Rhiannel had explained why we had come running, for Lord Elrond did not seek to chase us out.

“I will have the miscreant found,” King Thranduil growled, and in truth I pitied him. How embarrassing it was to host the highest lord in Middle Earth, only to have an intruder wage an attack so easily. If I had still been the kings’ captain of the guard, I would have been mortified.

“You have made a good start towards bringing the thief to ground,” Lord Elrond agreed. “I thank you for your quick action. Yes, thank you, Lindir; a glass of wine would be most welcome. If I may, Thranduil, I would like to explore some oblique paths to complement the direct steps you have taken.”

“Of course,” the king nodded at once. His gaze took in the Orc Spawn. “Perhaps your folk would prefer to retire?”

Lord Elrond’s smile surprised me, for it was as perverse as Kíli’s could be when he was contemplating mayhem. “If you would indulge me, I’d prefer for Kíli and his advisors to remain. They will be key players in the oblique game I have in mind.”

King Thranduil and Legolas looked us over, intrigued. As for the Orc Spawn, Giriel’s smile was not much less excited than Kíli’s own, and the rest of us, even Lindir, shared bright anticipation.

“We’re yours to command,” Kíli replied, and the rest of us nodded. “How can we help?”

Lord Elrond paused a moment, considering. “With the king’s support, I think a demonstration of your skills as a jewel smith is in order, Kíli. That will provide us the means to entice our thief into trying another theft.”

Kíli caught on faster than the rest of us, likely because he and his brother as youngsters had engaged in so many more pranks than Elves were wont to. “You want me to make a copy of the necklace. To make him think there’s another one worth having.”

Lord Elrond nodded. “Just so.”

“He’ll know it’s just a pretty copy,” Kíli warned. “I can make one that looks just as beautiful, but it won’t affect anyone like the stolen one does.”

“No, it won’t,” Lord Elrond agreed, glancing at Gandalf. The wizard’s lips twitched, but he nodded slightly at the high lord’s implied question. “But I think we have the means to give your copy its own alluring glamour, nevertheless.”

If I were as mystified as the rest of the Orc Spawn, so were King Thranduil and Legolas. Kíli, though, chuckled under his breath. The sound was ripe with anticipation, yet deadly serious, and worthy of the most audacious rascal who had ever drawn breath, whether Dwarf, Man, or Elf.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Our intrepid band rallies to plan a response to the alchemist's unexpected score, and along the way, Kili finds good reason to pay a visit to the secret garden where two years ago a very young Dwarvish archer and an equally young Elvish captain of the guard forged an unlikely bond. Our favorite archer and captain have grown into much more than that since, but they're still just as eager to savor each other.
> 
> Enjoy the maneuvering!

“What purpose,” asked King Thranduil, “does it serve to make a copy of the necklace when it will so clearly be nothing but the gold and gems it is made of?”

Lord Elrond sat in the chair beside the king, and Lindir brought another for Gandalf beside him. At the high lord’s gesture, the rest of us pulled up settees and chairs to hear his reply, so I put my bloody knife on the mantel and sat next to Tauriel to help her distract Míriel. Fortunately, now that the excitement was over and folk around us were calm, our bairn was content to rest quietly in my arms.

“I made mention earlier to you of certain magic encouraged by the Dark Lord and his followers,” Lord Elrond said.

“You did,” the king nodded. His eyes sharpened. “You intend to cast some of this on the copy of the necklace? But I thought you said you had no knowledge of how to wield it.”

“I do not,” Lord Elrond agreed. “There are few now who do. If I did, it would be far too dangerous to wield, in any case, which is why we must ferret out the one who stole the necklace, and learn if he is also the one responsible for the dark magic Mithrandir and I sensed earlier. If he is, we must put a stop to his practices, for they draw the forces of evil. If he is not, then perhaps he can lead us to who is.

“That having been said...” Lord Elrond’s serious expression waxed to something more calculating. “There are ways to mimic this dark magic that will do us no harm, yet may draw in the one we seek.”

All of us exchanged looks, speculating on what the high lord had revealed. The king frowned as he weighed Lord Elrond’s words.

“It is likely not wise to speak of the means by this is done,” he began.

Lord Elrond nodded. “It is not. It is not my purview, in any case –” many eyes fell upon Gandalf, who bore them impassively, “and we have many things to consider before the means are needed. First, we need a copy of the necklace. Kíli, what is needed to make the copy?”

I answered readily. “The gold and jewels, of course. I can make the green and rose gold from plain gold, if needed; it’s not a hard process. But if I may offer a suggestion...”

“Of course,” Lord Elrond held up a beckoning hand.

“If I made an exact copy, he’ll know it’s not the original, because he has that. Something made to a similar but not identical pattern might intrigue him more.”

“How so?” asked King Thranduil.

“One of the jewelers who taught me finework also taught me how he conducted business. He said maids didn’t want to have the same pieces their friends did – they wanted something unique. They liked sets of things, too, such as a necklace and a matched cuff, perhaps. So if I made something that looked akin to the poisoned necklace, that might interest the thief more than an exact copy would.”

“Because even if he didn’t care about a set of jewelry, he might wonder if Kíli’s piece had complementary powers to the one he has,” Rhiannel reasoned. “That would also explain any difference in the powers he’d sense between the one he stole and this new one.”

“Excellent point,” Gandalf nodded. “Well thought out, both of you.”

“Once you craft this piece, and it is properly seeded, then you intend to use it as bait to entice the thief to make another attempt.” King Thranduil mulled this over, casting his son an ironic look. “To encourage this, we could use the court gossip to our advantage.”

Legolas’s expression was long-suffering exasperation. “This may be the first time it has ever worked for a good cause, father.”

The king’s lips twitched in amusement at his son’s distaste. I’d never been part of a royal court, but I’d endured a right lot of gossiping and posturing maids trying to get to Fíli through me, so I suspected that Legolas had endured even more of that _dahaut_. “It may. But a suitable story that reaches the right ears would enhance the lure of the bait.”

“What kind of a story, my lord?” the curious Giriel asked, drawing another grimace from Legolas.

“The more lurid, the better,” the prince exhaled. “That failing, the more mysterious, the better.”

“I’ll give that my attention,” Gandalf inserted smoothly, with a look at Lord Elrond. Hmm; I suspected that the dark magic King Thranduil had mentioned so tantalizingly wasn’t something the wizard wanted us less exalted folk to bandy about. “Let us instead consider what Kíli needs to make the piece to accompany the necklace.”

Tauriel turned to me. “How long does it take to make such a thing, Kíli?”

“I’ll need at least three or four days. It’s fine work, and hard on the eyes.”

“Can others help you shorten the process?” Lord Elrond asked. “If we take that long to produce the second piece, our thief may puzzle out what we have done, and then be reluctant to take our bait.”

“If you want the piece to look Dwarf crafted like the original, then no, others can’t help me. But I know a way to shorten the time I’ll need to next to nothing.”

I didn’t look at Tauriel, so as not to embarrass her. But she knew instantly where my thoughts had gone, because her cheeks flushed just the barest bit.

“The _Glawar-galad_ ,” she said firmly, without cracking a smile. “If Kíli makes the piece there, he will have as long as he needs, and yet he will not delay our plans.”

“Of course,” King Thranduil’s eyes waxed with understanding and satisfaction. “That is the solution, of course.”

“The _Glawar-galad_?” our scholar Lindir repeated curiously. “That means ‘glittering reflection of sunlight,’ does it not?”

“It does,” the king confirmed. “Long ago, part of this cavern was fitted with bronze mirrors to direct the sunlight inward, and rich gardens were planted within to remind us of the forest when it was the Greenwood, rather than the ailing Mirkwood it has become. It had fallen into disrepair, until Kíli reset the mirrors to return the light within, and reworked the first of the neglected borders. It has flourished, and once more is a place of beauty for our folk. Through whatever means, time passes much more slowly there than outside. Within the _Glawar-galad_ , the four days that Kíli requires would seem as no more than an hour or two outside.”

“That would be perfect,” Rhiannel nodded, “assuming the things Kíli needs to make the necklace can be brought unobtrusively into the _Glawar-galad_. Do you need a forge, Kíli?”

“Oh and oh, not at all,” I explained. “A fire hot enough to melt gold, and a drawing block to make wire, first of all. Tools to shape the metal, too. Those aren’t too unwieldy. And polishing and setting the gems doesn’t need anything bulky.”

“Then with your permission, father,” Legolas turned to the king, “I will see about the things that Kíli needs. Then tomorrow we can set the court to gossip.”

“Do so, Legolas,” King Thranduil agreed readily, then turned his eyes on me. “Do you require skilled assistants to help you work the gold?”

I bowed in thanks. “That is a generous offer, my lord, but I’ll recruit one or another of your esteemed visitors to help with the bellows. That’ll make it easier for us to keep the doing a secret.”

“So what do you plan to make, Kíli?” Giriel asked eagerly.

I shrugged. “Perhaps an Elvish diadem? To make a set with the necklace such as an elite would wear, to give the story Gandalf’s going to spin a bit more glamour?”

“Yes, Kíli, that’s good,” Tethrandil put in. “It’s always easier to sell something at a high price when the seller can claim provenance of his goods. Given that we know the necklace features dreamflowers, Gandalf can spin a tale about a high lady of Lothlórien, perhaps even Lady Galadriel herself, being the original owner. When it was discovered in Imladris, Lord Elrond and the Lady decided to consult with King Thranduil to see if the necklace could be cleansed, hence our appearance here under cover of Kíli’s treaty.”

“That would be a tempting provenance, indeed,” Lord Elrond said with another glance at Gandalf. “We will leave the further crafting of that to Mithrandir.”

“Then Kíli, if you and I can discuss the things you need, I will see about acquiring them right away,” Legolas said.

“I’d like to go to the _Glawar-galad_ right away,” I said.

“Is the morrow not soon enough?” Legolas looked at me with a frown.

“I need to sleep before I start on the diadem. Better I do so there, so it’ll pass here as but a few minutes. That’ll put the piece in our hands by morn – morn in this part of the cavern, I mean.”

“Speed would work to our favor,” Gandalf nodded to Lord Elrond and the king.

“Make the arrangements, then,” the king agreed. “How many of your folk do you need to accompany you, Kíli?”

“All volunteers are gratefully accepted,” I replied. “At least my wife and child, and the – um, my advisors, so they can take turns helping me tend the fire.”

“I think Gandalf and I will accompany Kíli and his advisors,” Lord Elrond mused. “That will make it easier for you, Thranduil, if we are all together, as it will seem to be the private visit that Legolas suggested. We will leave the guard as they stand, so that they remain unaware of the efforts we make inside the _Glawar-galad_.”

“Just so,” King Thranduil’s smile was devious. “I will let it slip that the rigors of Mirkwood were such that the folk of Imladris were most eager to savor a glimpse of the forest as it had been long ago.”

“Oh, that’s no lie,” I murmured, but reddened when Giriel snickered. I was long past tired, and it was getting harder to watch my tongue. “Well, the _Glawar-galad_ is a lot easier to savor than Mirkwood, isn’t it?”

My Orc Spawn mates at least gave me sympathetic smiles, and I caught Gandalf smiling in his beard.

“If I may make a further suggestion, Thranduil?” Lord Elrond said courteously.

“By all means,” came the king’s invitation.

“Perhaps you would choose to accompany us as Kíli crafts the diadem. The rest of us have work to do as well – crafting the story of the diadem’s provenance, and the best way to divulge that, and to whom. It would be helpful to have your advice and insight as we pursue those tasks. Given how little time will pass here while we are in the _Glawar-galad_ , it would be time well spent for all of us. Your son as well, if he chooses.”

I kept my wince to myself. I wanted privacy in a magical garden with my wife, without having to watch my back for a mercurial king. But Lord Elrond wouldn’t subject us to the king’s presence without a good reason, so I worked hard not to look disappointed when I glanced at the king. He was likely preening at Lord Elrond’s offer, and making much of himself.

To my surprise, however, the king looked pleased and gratified at the high lord’s words. “I am flattered at your invitation, Lord Elrond. It would honor me greatly to offer you and your folk whatever help I can. I accept your kind offer.”

“I would like to accompany you, as well, father,” Legolas added. He turned towards Lord Elrond to offer a bow. “It would be my honor.”

“Then let us make our way there at once,” King Thranduil said.

“The storerooms have an entrance right off the _Glawar-galad_ , and we can help ourselves to whatever we need,” Legolas told us. “Once there, Kíli and I can make the list of the supplies he needs for the diadem, and I will see to it.”

More chatter followed, but I didn’t pay attention to most of it as I collected my knife, trusting that the Orc Spawn knew I was suffering the weariness of mortals, and would alert me if they needed me. Soon enough, Lindir slipped out with a pair of our guardsmen to round up our baggage, then King Thranduil took us down to the _Glawar-galad_ with all the ceremony of an official tour, just in case anyone passed us and wondered what we were all up to. Legolas and Tauriel surreptitiously slipped off with a few guardsmen to collect the things we’d need from the storeroom, while the rest of us made our way to the main entrance.

We entered the underground garden that I’d fallen into two years ago. I was too tired to notice many details, and in any case it was night inside, with only a lantern or two to cast any light. But the sad wrack of neglect had been cleared away, and the planting beds were now lush with well-tended flowers, shrubs, and vines. Elegant wooden porches with carved benches now fronted the cavern walls where the trysting chambers were, so this time I wouldn’t have to find a convenient tree branch from which to jump inside one of them. It would be a wondrous sight when the sun rose, but for the moment, all I wanted to do was find a quiet corner and drown in the deepest sleep. Even Míriel sighed wearily in my arms, ready for repose.

While Legolas and I sat at one of the scattered tables to make the list of jewelry supplies, the rest of our company scattered as King Thranduil showed them the chambers where they could take their repose if they so desired. I noticed that he steered Lord Elrond towards the one where Tauriel and I had first coupled, giving me a reason to smile, even if it meant my wife and I couldn’t pay it another visit. But as they were all sumptuous, I was not particular about which one Tauriel chose for us. She was already off to do just that while Legolas and I sorted things out. Thankfully, we were done quickly, and the blond prince went off to collect the needed things. That left me to heft Míriel and wander about looking for Tauriel. I walked slowly, humming to my bairn softly in the dimness, and glad we had a moment to ourselves. I nuzzled her, grinning when she was too tired even to burble. I wasn’t much more articulate, truth be told.

“Your bed is ready for you,” Tauriel said as she joined me.

“And I’m ready for it,” I exhaled. “So is Míriel.”

“I hope you’re not disappointed that we can’t rest in the king’s chamber again.”

I grinned. “Lord Elrond’s welcome to it. In fact, I could likely sleep under any tree you’d care to point me to.”

“I think you can hope for more than the bare ground under a tree,” Tauriel’s voice was an indulgent caress on my tired ears. “We will have a luxurious chamber as befits an eminent ambassador.”

I snickered. “I don’t claim to be eminent, _amrâlimê_. Only sleepy.”

“We are almost there. You have only to climb a few stairs this time, rather than to jump from a tree.”

My snicker slid into a giggle. “I had the same thought just a moment ago.”

Tauriel led me up the stairs to one of the chambers and let us inside, where a lamp was already lit. I glanced around as Tauriel shut the door on the rest of the world. The chamber was not much less luxurious than the king’s own, but I hardly cared about any of it past the sleeping platform. I saw that all of our baggage was inside.

“We thought it wise not to leave anything for anyone to pry into,” Tauriel said, seeing my look.

“Indeed,” I yawned, putting Míriel down on the sleeping pad. She didn’t even fuss for her doll, but when Tauriel tucked her and her toy into the waiting cradle, our bairn curled around it and her blanket with a happy sigh. “Well said, little jewel. I’m about to do exactly the same thing with your mother.”

I stripped off my clothes, and Tauriel followed suit. It was purest luxury to take Tauriel’s hand, draw her down on the sleeping pad with me, and pull the coverlet over us. We snuggled together like puppies, drawing my smile.

“What, _a’maelamin_?” Tauriel whispered.

“I have a terrible confession to make, _amrâlimê_.”

“Another one? This time, you can’t tell me you haven’t been with a maid before.”

Giggling, I found something to do with my fingers that brought a sudden inhalation of breath from my wife. “Hardly. I’ve spent two years coupling with a fiery Elf maid every chance I can get. But that’s exactly the reason for my terrible confession tonight. I lied to Lord Elrond, the king, Gandalf, and all our friends.”

“Did you? That sounds dire. What did you lie about?”

“I don’t really need four days to make a diadem.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what do you need to do that takes four days, my darkly devious Dwarf?”

I rolled over, sliding atop my beautiful wife, then inside her. She was ready for me, and even as sleepy as I was, I took full advantage of everything she offered me. When we’d taken ourselves over the moon, I kissed the sweet spot between her breasts, and then laid my head there to listen to her heart beating strongly under my ear.

“The worst part of traveling is not having the wherewithal to couple with my fiery Elf maid as often as we both prefer. The last time we were here, we went at each other like a pair of rabbits. You didn’t think I was going to forego a chance to get us back in here for more of the same, did you? Four days ought to be enough to take the edge off my cravings for you. Barely.”

“If you had not recalled the place of our first coupling, I would have found an excuse to do so,” Tauriel stroked my hair, making me hum. “Sleep now, _a’maelamin_. But I warn you – when you wake, I will have several demands to make of you before I let you labor over gold and gems.”

I hummed in anticipation as I eased beside Tauriel. She put her head on my shoulder, and her arm across my ribs as exhaustion coupled with the solace of release to wash me away. “I will be your willing servant. And anyone else you want. Just as soon as I get my second wind...”

I drifted off with Tauriel’s sweet body beside me.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! 
> 
> This chapter has a little fluff, a little Miriel, a little plotting, and a surprising role for Giriel and Tauriel to play in the dance to trap the alchemist. It will stretch both of them to their limits... well, perhaps not:-).
> 
> King Thranduil's education begins, too. Will it stretch his limits, too?
> 
> Hope you enjoy the maneuvering!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Skator = hell (Orcish)

 

_“Thranduil’s presence will require delicate handling, Lord Elrond,” Gandalf murmured as the king left them to choose a chamber. “It is not wise to divulge the Three to him.”_

_“I appreciate the difficulty I have introduced. But there is much we stand to gain if we can show Thranduil the benefits of a more collaborative, less one-sided stewardship.”_

_The wizard sighed. “Perhaps. If he can be softened, then that bodes better for Kíli’s treaty.”_

_“It bodes better for Thranduil’s folk and ours, as well. He is intelligent, and has his folk’s best interests at heart. Learning the wisdom of tolerance and patience will help him. It will help us all soon enough.”_

_“He is very stubborn,” the wizard grumbled, but quietly._

_Lord Elrond laughed softly. “So are we, old friend.”_

_“Do you intend the Orc Spawn to behave themselves?”_

_“Absolutely not. That is our strength, more than we know, to have the benefit of youth and playfulness as part of our plans. If the king cannot see this, then perhaps his son can.”_

_Gandalf sighed again. “As you say, Lord Elrond.”_

_The high lord’s smile was amused, but he was wise enough to hold silence. Even a grumpy wizard was not one to anger._

 

* * *

 

Kíli took only a handful of seconds to fall into well-deserved sleep. We had traveled twenty miles ahorse today, endured much pomp to enter the Woodland Realm, presented Kíli’s letters and advisors to King Thranduil, endured more pomp at dinner, conversed with Legolas, and then struggled to recover from a surprisingly bold attack, all with only a short respite to bathe and rest. We had also plotted our strategy to address the attack, and now we had moved bag and baggage into new quarters. If Kíli had managed to stay awake only a little longer, he would have been surprised to see how closely an Elf maid could appear to share his Dwarvish repose.

I lay quietly in the twilight that often comes upon Elves when they are in particular need of restoration, aware of Kíli’s soft breathing and Míriel’s occasional coos, but above them and all other sensations. Starlight twinkled above me, visible in the skylight above our bed, sending its rejuvenating strength through me as I rested. The only sensation I had ever felt that was akin to the gentle touch of starlight was to be immersed in a quiet pool of barely cool water, weightless and ethereal, comforted by the subtle touch against my skin. Restoration was always a blessing from the Valar, but tonight, given how tired I was, it was an especially welcome grace.

In some hours, I had restored myself enough to rise, but I stayed beside Kíli with my eyes closed, content to listen to his soft breathing, feel his body warmth, touch his silky black hair, smell his unique spicy scent. In time, when Míriel’s coos grew more frequent, I rose, ducked into the necessary to wash and dress, and then took our daughter out into the garden.

It was still an hour or so before dawn, but dim lamps scattered along the paths that wandered here and there cast enough light to see. I found a grassy area where I spread Míriel’s pad and toys, and we had a wonderful time playing together. My daughter thought it was the best game to crawl over me, looking for the Dwarves’ carved toys that I made peep out from behind my knee, or above my shoulder, or out of my hair. She would crawl busily, following the toy, and when she caught it, she would chortle and plunk herself in my lap to savor her victory, only to look around for the next toy.

When she tired of that, she crawled into my lap again, but this time she wanted her story. Since we had not thought to bring books with us for Míriel, both Kíli and I had begun to spin little tales for her about birds or hedgehogs or mice, small animals that appealed to a babe. Kíli punctuated his with her toy animals and many squeaks and funny voices. Míriel especially liked his tale about mice flying on the back of an eagle, which had begun out of the ride he and Fíli had taken as part of Thorin’s company, and then quickly expanded into a whole parade of ridiculous situations for the mice. I had chosen birds for my tales, for I could whistle their calls, which Míriel thought was delightful. As dawn drew near, I was entranced to find that birds had returned to the _Glawar-galad_ , and when I whistled, they whistled back. Míriel thought that this was a fine kind of magic.

When the birds tired of singing with me, Míriel had a good roll around the grass, and then a good crawl, and then a good jump. That’s what she liked to do as I held her hands, bouncing up and down with gleeful determination and stamping her feet. Kíli was right. Our babe would walk soon, and then her parents would be constantly busy running after her.

I sighed. To have this time with Míriel was delightful, but it also had its regrets. I wished I were back in Imladris, in my own garden. That far off retreat was much smaller and humbler than this grand oasis, but it was also much sweeter. Kíli and I had spent most of the last six months constantly ahorse, and would likely do so for the next two, at least. I would be glad to see my sweet house and garden at the end of it.

Míriel took full advantage of this rare free time to wear herself out thoroughly, and was ready for breakfast. As this part of the garden was still deserted, I found a comfortable settee at the edge of the grass where I suckled my daughter. She already needed this less and less, and wanted solid food more and more, so I cuddled her close, knowing this time would soon be past, and hummed her a song as she fed.

The sun was fully up now, and its light grew within the _Glawar-galad_ until it was hard to remember that this garden was underground. Míriel, however, was ready to rest, so I eased back into the chamber where Kíli slept. Míriel was happy to take to her cradle after so much vigorous play. When she drew her doll and blanket close, I was free to see if Kíli were yet awake. But no, my husband was still in the arms of sleep.

I wondered how long it would take me to persuade a dark Dwarf that the arms of an Elvish maid offered delight best savored while awake? Perhaps I should find out.

I slipped out of my tunic and leggings, and then into bed. Kíli lay flat on his back, black hair in a corona around his head, and arms and legs spread wide as if he wanted to take full advantage of as much of the bed as possible. I stealthily kneeled between his legs, eased my hands onto the mattress to either side of his shoulders, and brushed soft kisses on his temple, his cheek, his jaw, and finally his lips. His eyes remained shut, but his lips curved slowly up into an anticipatory smile, and his hands massaged my hips in long, sleepy strokes. Quickly, however, his hands drew my hips down over his cock, and his legs twined around mine to keep himself deeply within. The pressure of his strong thighs on the outside of mine deepened the pleasure of his touch within, and my breath caught. His chuckle was smug.

“You’ve fallen into my trap, maid.”

“You have fallen into mine, and so I shall return your thrust with a suitable riposte.” I tightened around him slowly, drawing him to catch his breath in turn.

“Valar, maid, that’s more than a riposte. It’s the ultimate victory. Oh...”

I grinned. “Do you complain, then?”

“ _Skator_ , no. Any morn I plumb the depths of a fiery warrior Elf maid before my eyes are open is a good morn.”

I laughed. “Any morn I seduce a dark, delicious agent of the Valar is also a good morn.”

“Then we’re both blessed with delight this morn,” Kíli breathed, and found something decadent to do with his lips. Despite yesterday’s indulgences, neither of us lasted long under such determined attentions. It was the first of several indulgences, but the only one so headlong. Given the rigors of travel and our preference not to disturb the contemplations of our daughter, it suited us both to proceed with more leisure after our initial enjoyment.

“By the time we return home,” Kíli murmured, lying beside me as he stroked my stomach slowly, “Miri will be spinning about on her tiny, twinkling toes like a top, and we’ll have to be more...”

“Circumspect,” I suggested, smiling. “Though I do not ever intend to exercise any less delight.”

Kili’s chuckle was mischievous and gleeful, and his eyes widened in consideration. “Hmm. A quick dive into the cloak closet might be fun.”

“A lock on the bed chamber door will allow us more overt fun than would a furtive tryst in the closet.”

“The furtive closet might provide more spice, though. So would the garden under the stars, though how we’ll manage that, I’ve no idea. Perhaps I’ll have to put a window in the bedchamber roof. You look beautiful drenched in moonlight and nothing else.”

“We shall give it considerable thought when we reach home,” I promised. But Kíli’s eyes narrowed in arousal as he eased us close again.

“I’ll give it considerable thought right here, too,” he said as he slipped his hands behind my head and drew me into a passionate kiss that held as much urgency as our first coupling of the day.

Breakfast would be rather late this morn.

 

* * *

 

If I’d had to count how many times Tauriel and I took our pleasure together this morning, it would have sounded like boasting on both our parts. Suffice it to say that my balls ached, drained to within a hair’s breath of their endurance. It had been a very long trip from Imladris, after all. May every Dwarf lad who started life as inauspiciously as I suffer such an aftermath to a morning’s delight with a fiery warrior Elf maid.

At last we rose, washed, and dressed; collected Míriel; and came out into the garden. We were the last of our party up, of course. It was no secret as to how we’d spent our time, either, as Gandalf met us with a sly look and a knowing shake of the head. Even Lord Elrond wore a pale if indulgent smile. Tethrandil was inscrutable, but for a wink. As for Giriel and Rhiannel, I hoped they’d indulged as much as Tauriel and I had. In answer to my considering look, the latter smiled broadly; the former laughed outright, but surprisingly managed to hold her silence. Maybe it was the presence of Lord Elrond and Lindir that helped her hold her tongue.

The king and his son sat as the table with our friends, too. I’d avoided looking at them, if for different reasons. Legolas at one point had offered Tauriel more than friendship, but Tauriel had chosen me, to my eternal surprise. I didn’t want to see him as a rival. But meeting his eyes revealed only welcome. I wondered if he was even aware of the ribald undercurrent simmering between my friends.

The king, now... he sat beside Lord Elrond, and met my nod of welcome with a nod in return. He seemed calm, content to let the conversation flow around him without comment. As the Orc Spawn seemed relaxed and happy to share the meal, I decided to follow suit. I gave Tauriel’s hand a squeeze as we took seats at the table.

Tauriel and I had plenty to choose from for breakfast, and I ate without stinting. Between yesterday’s posturing and this morning’s rigors, I was starving. Míriel was eager to sample the treats, too, and both Tauriel and I were busy keeping her supplied with small bites of the many dishes. I studied the king a little as I fed our daughter, but Lord Elrond seemed in full command, so I decided to ignore the monarch of the Woodland Realm and concentrate on breakfast, Míriel and Tauriel, and our friends.

A telling moment came when a plate of cream cakes fell under Míriel’s assault... and mine. Of course, that drew Giriel’s teasing comment about it being no surprise that Míriel liked them, given my history with them. She referred, of course, to the incident of my first visit to Imladris with Uncle Thorin’s company. Nori had gotten tired of the flittery Elf music featured at supper, and so Bofur had gotten up on the table to sing “The Man in the Moon” on and on and on, which had won him a barrage of cream cakes from the rest of us. I’d been one of the cake-throwing ringleaders, which my friends had never let me forget.

King Thranduil’s sharp gaze skewered me. “What’s this? A Dwarf prefers an Elvish confection over one from his own people?”

I grinned, remembering what Beorn had told me about the king being nettlesome – the more annoying he was, the deeper I was getting through to him. “Cream cakes are good treats to savor, my lord. There are many other things beyond food to like about Elvish folk, too. My friends are the best companions anyone can have, and my wife and daughter are gifts from the Valar.”

“Kíli is a good friend to us, as well,” Giriel said, smiling at the king, looking more dignified and sober than she ever did around her friends. “He taught us how to be graceful when learning new things, and to be flexible, and to laugh. He’s also taught us many new fighting tactics so that we are better able to fend off bandits and Gundebad Orcs. So has Tauriel. She told us about all the maids in the ranks of your guardsmen, and so we have added them to our ranks, as well as new ways for them to fight effectively. She is a wise and expert warrior, and I am proud to call her _osellë_ as well as teacher and friend. Kíli, too.”

Legolas unbent enough to smile at my _amrâlimê_ with the pride of an older brother. He reminded me of Fíli in that moment, and I liked him more for it. The king, however, frowned as he turned his regard tinged with incredulity on Lord Elrond.

“You have included an ambassador and his wife in the defenses of Imladris?”

Lord Elrond laughed. “Imladris is home to émigrés and refugees of many peoples, Thranduil, given our location in the midst of many lands. I have found them to add greatly to all aspects of the city, whether through arts, learning, or craft. Kíli and Tauriel are both seasoned warriors of merit, and Imladris is better protected with their expertise than without. Kíli is also a gifted smith. Both Tauriel and he served Imladris in these ways before Kíli’s kin from the Blue Mountains asked him to act the liaison between their folk and mine.”

King Thranduil fell silent, plainly thinking hard about Lord Elrond’s words. It came to me, then, why the high lord had asked the king to accompany us here. He wanted to show the king how to govern with more heart and less malice. I wished Lord Elrond luck. As Gandalf would have observed, he’d need all the luck in Middle Earth to accomplish that, but I admitted to a jaundiced opinion.

“Speaking of serving and smith craft,” I said into the silence, "I need to fetch paper and pen to draw out the design for the diadem. I’d like to look at any examples you lot have, to get an idea of size and so forth.”

It turned out that only Giriel had one, and only then did it come out that her mother was a close relative of Lord Elrond’s, which meant that she was the closest thing Imladris had to a royal relative. She’d loaned me one of her diadems for yesterday’s festivities, so I fetched it with my drawing supplies while Giriel found her other piece. As I began to sketch, the Orc Spawn drew close to comment and suggest with Gandalf and Lord Elrond, and even King Thranduil as he watched how we worked together. Legolas made little comment, instead preferring to watch his father closely. I was surprised when Lord Elrond removed his own circlet for me to examine, which was more than kind of him, but that was the sort of ruler he was. King Thranduil was surprised, but maybe the Orc Spawn’s give and take made an impression on him. None of our folk held back comments, and if some of them were irreverent, that was just how we preferred to work. I’d never found that being too serious helped anything, and often laughter was just the thing to shake a good idea free.

Maybe there was hope for the white-haired king of the Woodland Realm yet. He had, after all, been generous in his own way, for he had provided the materials and the means for this endeavor, and he’d reacted quickly.

Hope, maybe. But I still hadn’t forgotten that he’d tried to have me assassinated.

After much sketching and many suggestions, we came up with something that we all thought looked the proper mate to the poisoned necklace. While we shared luncheon, I explained the steps I’d take to make the piece, and what I needed helpers to do. Most of it was pumping bellows, or standing by with pots of water in case something went wrong, or stoking the fire. Legolas had been more than generous with supplies of fuel and equipment, so I was ready to start.

“The only tricky part is matching the gold,” I commented, as we shared cheese and fruit at the end of luncheon.

“In what way?” Lord Elrond asked.

“Isn’t gold just... gold?” Giriel seconded, frowning.

“The necklace is made of rose and green gold. You add different amounts of silver and copper to gold to make the different colors. I’ll start with the standard mixes that Dwarves use for the colors, and hope they’ll be a close match to those in the necklace. If they’re not close, our thief may figure out that the diadem isn’t what we say it is, and hie off.”

Tethrandil leaned forward to take another morsel of cheese. “I would not worry overmuch about that, Kíli. While negotiating orders of textiles for Lord Elrond, it was my experience that folk remember colors inexactly. Many are the times that one lord or lady claimed that one shade was identical to another, only to find when comparing the two that they were far from identical at all. They can also seem to vary by material – the play of light on velvet is very different from that on metal, which is very different from satin or silk. Using the same dye on two different fibers can result in very different colors, too, because the fibers take the dye differently. So I would take more pains on the design and execution than on the exact color of the gold.”

“If anything,” Rhiannel added, “I would think that you should match the gold to the gems, so that they are harmonious. Is that possible?”

“In some sense, though if the pink gems are too blue, they won’t look right. They have to be a bit of a warm pink.”

“Father has a good eye for colored gems,” Legolas said, bringing out a small box. “He chose them himself. I have them here.”

He leaned forward to pass the box down the table to me. I opened them, and everyone leaned forward to see them.

“They are beautiful gems, I must say,” Gandalf nodded with approval, and the rest of us echoed his sentiments, drawing the king to nod in pleased thanks. I took a clean plate from the table, one of white ceramic that would not alter the perceived color of the gems, carefully poured the gems onto it, and separated them by color. The adamant diamonds were pure and clear, beautiful in a cold, icy way that had never drawn me. The rose rubies, however, were exquisite, and the warm pink that we needed. They were too pale for Tauriel, but they would look beautiful on Giriel’s brow...

“I just had an idea of how to tell the thief that we have the diadem,” I said, looking at our two Elf maids.

“How?” several of my friends asked at once.

“Once we have our tale for the diadem and the necklace, perhaps our two Elf maids can be revealed as quite flibbity about jewelry. They can say something about it at dinner, or a party, or some such thing – maybe even reveal a bit of our made-up provenance. And if somehow the thief overhears them, and if he somehow follows them around a bit, maybe the two maids egg each other on to sneak the diadem out to try it on. And if they seem a bit giddy from the king’s heady wine, and if the diadem’s got that glamour that Gandalf’s going to put on it, then maybe thief will be tempted to take it. And if the rest of us are somehow hidden around the room where our maids are pretending to be giddy, well... there you are.” I looked around. “Um, we’ll all turn on him and have him, won’t we?” I looked around again, still to silence, and grinned sheepishly. “It needs a bit of work, but maybe there’s something useful in the idea.”

Lord Elrond grinned and shot Gandalf a look. “Perhaps, while Thranduil, Mithrandir, and I devise the provenance, Legolas, Lindir, Tethrandil, and Rhiannel can devise a suitable play for our two Elf maids. As both of our maids are formidable warriors, and hardly ones to swoon over clothing and jewelry, or lose their heads to wine, perhaps they should practice their impressions of court blossoms.”

Despite the presence of the two most important Elvish lords in Middle Earth, Giriel snorted in a most unmaidenly fashion, while Tauriel’s eyes grew wide in dismay. “Oh, Valar, Tauriel – your _a’maelamin_ and the high lord of Imladris want us to act as silly flitter-wits! What do they take us for?”

“They take you to be the perfect agents to catch our thief,” Tethrandil soothed, though his smile was entirely too wide.

“What is a flitter-wit?” Legolas asked. “And a... court blossom?”

“Lady Niriellen,” Tauriel said impassively. The prince winced, and he and my wife traded long-suffering expressions, while King Thranduil smothered a crooked smile.

“It would be the perfect disguise, Giriel,” Tethrandil continued, grinning when Giriel stuck her tongue at him. “Our thief would not expect two flitter-wits to be such formidable warriors, will he?”

I snickered, but I wasn’t the only one. Rhiannel was quite taken with the idea of Giriel acting like one of the beautiful but shallow maids who wafted through a certain section of Imladris society. These maids danced exquisitely, perhaps painted an occasional wispy design of wildflowers, and dearly loved to gossip with their friends about clothes and parties, but were suited for very little else. Neither Giriel nor my _amrâlimê_ were anything like such pretties.

“Such a masquerade may be as difficult a task as we’ve had in a decade, Giriel,” my wife shook her head. She smiled suddenly. “Still, it is not beyond us. We have many examples to draw upon, do we not? You do not know the Lady Niriellen that I mentioned, of course, but she is very like our own Lady Fliri.”

Giriel’s eyes twinkled with inspiration. “Of course! She is an inspired muse for us, Tauriel! So yes, we will plan an appropriate campaign to disguise the formidable warrior maids as flitter-wits.”

“That leaves me to set up my jeweler’s workbench,” I said, laughing at the thought of Giriel and Tauriel as vapid court blossoms. “When I’m ready, I’ll recruit one or another of you plotters to pump the bellows. It won’t be hard, given the amount of heated air you all will generate while I make jewelry.”

That dig won me several snorts and rude noises, and it was a good note on which to end our luncheon. Gandalf, King Thranduil, and Lord Elrond found seats on one of the porches where they could talk in private as they watched over the rest of us. Tauriel and Giriel retreated with Míriel to Giriel’s chamber to mull over the weighty topics of clothes, jewelry, gossip, and affected mannerisms. Legolas, Rhiannel, Lindir, and Tethrandil stayed at the luncheon table where I’d left my drawing things to work on a better tale than mine to draw the thief out. That left me to sort out the jewelry-making supplies. Imagining Giriel and Tauriel’s conversation gave me much to chuckle about as I set about making colored gold.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> Here's a fluffy little chapter where Giriel teaches Tauriel how to have a little fun masquerading as a flitter-wit. Who knew Giriel, that maid who loves to race around on her horse and wants to ride a Warg, could have just as much fun pretending to be delicately clueless?
> 
> Still, she's got her work cut out for her to help the serious Tauriel get into the spirit of the masquerade. And what will King Thranduil think?
> 
> Hope you enjoy the silliness!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Osellë = sister  
> Otorno = brother

_When King Thranduil excused himself, Gandalf slid a glance at Lord Elrond. “Did the thief search for your ring?”_

_Lord Elrond grimaced as he nodded. “A bold one, he is. No sooner does he have one treasure in hand but he clamors for more. Even with invisibility to shield him, it takes cool cunning to delay his escape for the chance to pull a ring or two from the hands of his opponents.”_

_“Neither of which he got. A point in our favor. Another one is that we know that he senses the rings just as we do. That may offer us a way to sweeten our bait of the diadem._

_“You’ve considered how best to beguile our diadem, then.”_

_Gandalf nodded. “The question is how compelling do we dare make it.”_

_“You bear the means to offer hope against evil.”_

_“As you bear the means to heal and preserve. Neither is what I would consider most attractive to a thief.”_

_“Unless he is an indiscriminant one, who seeks power no matter its type.”_

_“Let us consider our sister power – that to offer secrecy and concealment.”_

_“Secrecy and concealment from evil, as well as preservation of all good things. Not secrecy and concealment of evil.”_

_“True enough. But secrecy and concealment would appeal more to this thief than hope or healing.”_

_“We do not have secrecy and concealment at our disposal.”_

_“No, they are in Lothlórien as they should be. Still, Lothlórien is a place with which our thief is familiar. As Tethrandil suggested, if our tale included mention of Lady Galadriel as the original owner, it may be that her name will resonate with him.”_

_Lord Elrond fell silent. After long silence, he looked at the wizard. “If our thief is able to make his own rings, then he is also likely aware of the history of the Three.”_

_The wizard nodded. “That would be my assumption.”_

_“Then he likely knows which of the Three is the most powerful.”_

_The wizard nodded again. “Likely indeed. That may be the most powerful draw without any other tale to adorn it.” He looked at the high lord. “I do not like risking either of our rings on this petty thief.”_

_“If he makes his own rings, then he is not merely a petty thief. He is a potential asset, willing or not, aware or not, to Sauron. That is why me must take this risk, or suffer the consequences.”_

_The wizard sighed before he met the high lord’s eyes. “Whether we retrieve the necklace or not, we must retrieve the rings we’ve sensed, and put an end to them if we can. We must put an end to the creation of more, too.”_

_The high lord’s smile was grim. “The only way to put an end to these things may be to put an end to our thief.”_

_The wizard nodded. “I have come to the same conclusion. Doing so will not be easy. Let us hope that it is not also dishonorable.”_

_“Indeed.”_

 

* * *

 

How should I describe how I spent the afternoon? An exercise in frivolity? Broad hilarity? Biting social commentary?

It was all of those, and not without useful revelations.

It began with the sorting of clothing, a task that had never enamored me. It seemed so trivial to obsess over such things! When I had lived in the Woodland Realm, I’d had few non-utilitarian clothes. I’d shunned gatherings and festivals because I’d felt no resonance with such things after the deaths of my parents. Instead, I’d lost myself in my duties as captain of King Thranduil’s guard. When that had failed to ease my grief, I’d taken to Mirkwood’s treetops at night to bathe my loss in the blood of any Orc, Warg, or spider unfortunate enough to cross my path. Clever lines, whether those designed to make a gown fit sleekly, or those jabbed home on the snake’s tongue of a court toady, had held no solace or amusement for me.

Now that Kíli and I lived in Imladris, I still eschewed court gatherings, though Lord Elrond did not hold anything similar to the dangerous evenings of the Woodland Realm. His were gracious, warm, and friendly affairs, and if several of the flitter-wits that so disgusted Giriel attended, they were not many, and easily avoided in favor of more substantial company. To be honest, I felt out of place at such refined events; I was a Nandor Elf, not a high Noldor, and less exalted. I’d also been raised in a war garrison, not a center of high learning, and had never learned the art of idle talk.

The gatherings that I found much more delightful were the weekly suppers that Kíli and I shared with the Elves who lived around us, for most of them were our duty mates, and of course the Orc Spawn were there. We talked freely about the day’s duties, played games, laughed, and earnestly discussed all manner of topics, all while eating whatever appeared at the table with gusto. Kíli, it turned out, played the fiddle quite well, and we had other friends who played musical instruments, so in good weather the courtyard in the center of our homes was full of singers and dancers. They were wonderful times. I had never had so many friends, and I suspect that Kíli hadn’t, either. The warmth and gaiety we enjoyed in our spontaneous gatherings was something that we both treasured.

Remembering these times did not make me eager to add farce to an already uncomfortable court event. But Giriel took me in hand with her usual bluntness.

“Your friends all know you are no flitter-wit, Tauriel. You are the epitome of a warrior maid to all who see you. But it won’t hurt you to have a little fun preening in a few gowns. That sea blue gown that you wore to match Kíli’s formal rig was a good start. It suits you very well.”

I laughed. “Kíli arranged that. I hadn’t set eyes on it before yesterday, or even knew he’d seen to it. I’d expected to wear another one.”

“Green, am I right?” Giriel snorted. She shook her head. “There is entirely too much green in the Woodland Realm.”

“There is,” I laughed ruefully. “Wearing blue was a relief, to be honest.”

“Then let’s see what I can find that isn’t green,” she grinned, turning to her baggage. “Maybe orange!”

“Oh, no, Giriel!” I gasped. “I’ll look like a pumpkin!”

Giriel pulled out a tunic and tossed it to me with a knowing smile. “I do not think you will look like a pumpkin in this, Tauriel.”

In truth, the tunic looked nothing like a pumpkin, and to call it merely orange was Giriel teasing me. It was soft silk, and draped beautifully. I suppose it was something like the color of a lowly pumpkin, but a gilded one, shading into rich, dark amber. Giriel was taller than I, but that meant that the tunic trailed behind me indulgently, which suited the persona of a flamboyant court blossom. Giriel had several such tunics in all colors, all of which paired easily with leggings in green or brown.

“When we return to Imladris, I can help you choose some for yourself, if you like,” Giriel offered. “The silk packs small, which is useful for traveling, and wears hard, so it lasts. And colored silk glows like no other fabric.”

“It does,” I said, admiring a tunic the deep yellow of autumn yarrow. A dark, velvety purple was equally beautiful. I’d never worn anything in these colors, thinking them too frivolous for a captain of the guard.

“The one to go with us is Drennal,” Giriel went on, holding up an apricot colored gown, eyeing it then me, but as the color was too pale to suit me, she set it aside. “She wears the most beautiful colors! I miss her. I wish we knew how she was doing with her bearing. I hope she’s well.”

“I wish we’d be home before she drops. But unless King Thranduil is more tractable than his usual, we will not get through Kíli’s treaty before snow fills the mountain passes, and we’ll have to stay here through the winter.”

Giriel hummed in commiseration. “Not a pleasant prospect. Not that the Woodland Realm is so unpleasant,” she hastily amended, “as we haven’t seen much of it yet. But Imladris is easy to miss.”

“It is,” I agreed. “You don’t have to worry about how I feel about the Woodland Realm, Giriel. It is beautiful in its way, but it is a cold place to me. It offers no comparison to Imladris. I am glad that Kíli and I are there, and neither here nor in Erebor.”

“I’m glad you’re in Imladris, too,” Giriel grinned. “Else I would never have had nearly so much fun, either in the guard or in the rest of my life thus far. You and Kíli have brought just the spice we needed.”

Giriel went on to list all the things Kíli and I had done to spice Imladris, as she described it. I laughed; my friend had the background, the beauty, and the wherewithal to be one of the court blossoms we were about to imitate, but here she was, reveling in standing atop a horse to ride it, swearing in both Orcish and Dwarvish, and riding madly across the steppes and plains of Middle Earth. Here was an Elf maid whose life ran rich with zest of her own making.

At length, we sorted through the last of Giriel’s clothes. We had several richly colored tunics in which I could make my debut as a court blossom. I cast Míriel a wry look.

“Will you recognize your mother in such wonderful colors, Míriel?”

“Mami,” Míriel said definitely, drawing our laughter.

“Apparently she will,” Giriel decided. She nudged me. “I wager that Kíli will do much more than recognize you when you appear so adorned.”

“I certainly hope so,” I shot back. “Are you sure you don’t want to wear some of these yourself to tempt Rhiannel?”

“What makes you think I haven’t already?” she returned just as fast.

“The rumor is that you put Rhiannel to quite a chase.”

“Good! You _can_ gossip, after all,” she grinned. “Rhiannel has his own tricks. He likes to seem calm and thoughtful, just to see how far I’ll go to tease him out of being calm and thoughtful. It’s a delightful game.”

“So it is.”

We bantered back and forth as we considered which wraps and other accouterments would best enhance our impressions of court blossoms, and before the afternoon had progressed much further, Giriel had given me a precise assessment of the best mannerisms to emulate. We did a little practicing, which I found hilarious. Giriel was a natural mimic, and she was so comfortable in her own skin that she had no trouble putting on another when it suited her. Her impressions of a dreamy expression, a dropped shoulder, an elegant gait, or a lilting voice were so accurate that I had no trouble recognizing the sources of her pretending. I had a harder time of it, being far too used to being impassive in the few social situations I hadn’t been able to avoid.

“You are so controlled!” Giriel shook her head, arms akimbo.

I nodded readily. “I am. That is the best way to avoid attention here.”

“But we don’t want to avoid attention. We want to draw a thief, an Elf without scruples, so that we can trap him.”

“Truth,” I sighed. “I will try again. Though, Giriel, you are so funny that I can hardly keep from laughing.”

“A little uncontrollable laughter will likely fit in very well,” she snickered. “Would it help to remind yourself that this is just a different kind of duty? Or what if you pretend to be drunk? Oh, Tauriel! You cannot tell me you’ve never been drunk!”

“I haven’t been drunk often.”

“Perhaps not, but you certainly were on your marriage day.”

I smiled fondly. “Yes, I was. Happily so.”

“So think of that happy day, and act accordingly. Go on.”

I stood thinking of drinking all that heady Imladris wine, and dancing joyously around our garden, and dashing madly down the street to see Kíli thrown in a fountain, and started to dance.

“More arms!” Giriel said, starting to dance with me. “Like this!”

I did, until we were both whirling crazily, and Míriel burbled at us in wide-eyed disbelief. I stopped when I was out of breath, giggling.

“Much better,” Giriel pronounced. “Here, do you know the maids’ spring dance? It’d be perfect to give us an excuse to dance together. No? It’s very easy, just up and back, then around, and a little hop... yes, that’s it!”

We practiced Giriel’s little dance, which was silly, and encouraged the giggling that we’d need to reinforce the addled impression we wanted to make.

“This is fun,” I admitted.

“It is! Too silly for words, but just what we need, yes? I think we are ready to make an appearance to see what our comrades think.”

“Oh, Valar, Giriel! King Thranduil’s out there with Lord Elrond and Gandalf! I can’t act like a flitter-wit in front of the king!”

“When we try to entice the thief, it’s likely the king will be there, too, won’t he?”

“Giriel –”

“Lord Elrond and Gandalf know you are not a flitter-wit. So do the Orc Spawn. What do you care what the king thinks?”

I grimaced. “Do you know why the king banished me, Giriel? It wasn’t just because I defended a Dwarf. I called him a coward and a murderer for trying to assassinate Kíli! He would have struck me down if Legolas hadn’t stopped him. How can I act like a brainless, stupid, vapid...” A lump formed in my throat and wouldn’t go down no matter how hard I gulped. I sank down on the sleeping platform to hug Míriel.

“ _Osellë_ _nin_.” Giriel sat beside me, her hand comfortingly on my shoulder. “He isn’t king over you any longer. He can’t hurt you.”

I smothered something that was half laughter, half sob. “Oh, Valar, Giriel. You have no idea of what he can do. He tried to kill Kíli, no matter that we have laws that say otherwise.”

“You are under Lord Elrond’s protection and a citizen of Imladris, not of the Woodland Realm. Here, Tauriel. Let me explain why it will be a good thing for you to act like a flitter-wit. You must understand what Lord Elrond tries to do while we are here. Not just have Kíli make the diadem, and the rest of us make our plan. He tries to temper King Thranduil, too."

I looked up at her. “He what?”

“I’ve been watching them, both the king and the high lord. Thranduil has never seen another ruler other than his father, who was lost during a terrible war. From what you have told us, he has been on the front line of a war even before he lost his father, even unto today. He has lost so many of his folk, even his beloved wife. Maybe the defeat of the Orcs at Erebor has offered him the first respite in a very long time. So now is the time for him to see that he does not have to threaten and bluster and act the tyrant to preserve his kingdom. Lord Elrond tries hard to show him that a gentler hand, with room for others to disagree, makes for better governance. So I will act the flitter-wit to help with that, because Lord Elrond has asked me to aid a worthy cause, and because I owe him allegiance, but also because he is kin, a wise ruler, and will not think less of me for doing my best.”

I looked up at Giriel, as she tapped Míriel’s nose with her squeaky ball, making my giggling babe grab for it. The expression she turned on me was not her usual teasing irreverence, but compassionate and encouraging, reflecting her long life and experience.

I smiled. “And here I thought you would act the flitter-wit because you thought it would be fun."

“It will be,” she shrugged. “But I admit to another motive, too.”

“What?”

Giriel’s snort showed she was back to her old self. “I want that king of yours to see what a waste the real flitter-wits are. His court runs rampant with them, and they’re no help to anyone. The smarter maids are here, but stay away from the flitter-wits with good cause, because they’re vicious. Your friend the prince likes them no more than we. The more outrageous I make my performance of one, the more attention I call to how useless they are, and maybe the king would realize his court could benefit from smarter attendees. And if along the way he realizes what an idiot he was to banish you, so much the better.”

I sighed. “All excellent points. You should be an ambassador in your own right.”

Giriel rolled her eyes. “It is one thing to offer sage advice to my _osellë_. It is another to actually act so soberly all of the time.”

“Well, then... I will do my best. But let me give Míriel to one of our friends, first. I can’t act the flitter-wit when taking care of a babe.”

“Truth,” Giriel conceded, so I ducked outside with Míriel, nodded to Gandalf, King Thranduil, and Lord Elrond on the porch as I passed down the stairs, and brought Míriel to the luncheon table.

“If you would act a responsible party to Míriel for a moment, Giriel and I are ready to act irresponsibly,” I explained to Rhiannel, Tethrandil, Lindir, and Legolas with a grin. “Míriel, would you like to play with your uncles for a moment?”

“Ga!” she acknowledged, and crawled into Legolas’s lap as if she belonged there, much to his surprise. She banged her hands on the arms of his chair, as if demanding the start to the performance. Legolas looked at me as if wondering what he’d gotten himself into, but I beat a quick retreat to Giriel’s chamber before he said otherwise. The Orc Spawn would be to hand if Míriel decided she wanted a different perch.

Back in Giriel’s chamber, I put on the pumpkin tunic, Giriel put on the apricot one, and we draped ourselves with a wrap apiece and all the jewelry both of us possessed. It was much too much, and a sharp contrast to the look Giriel gave me. It was the same one she revealed every time she rode out on patrol back in Imladris, determined and fierce.

“ _Comys thoyn, osellë,”_ she breathed, holding out her hand.

I took a marshaling breath and slapped her hand. “ _Comys thoyn, osellë_.”

We stepped out of Giriel’s chamber languidly, and drifted down the stairs as if this were our everyday habit. Behind us, Gandalf chuckled, and murmured something to Lord Elrond, who turned to look at us. Chuckling, the two of them took King Thranduil in tow and followed us as we floated to the luncheon table where the Orc Spawn worked with Legolas. We pretended not to see them as we wafted by, chatting, arranging our wraps, and gesturing like lazy magicians. Rhiannel clapped his hand over his mouth, smothering laughter, and Lindir’s eyes were the size of saucers.

“Oh, bright stars...” Lindir mouthed faintly. “Giriel could be Lady Fliri herself, the way she flips the edge of her wrap...”

Rhiannel choked, nearly consumed in laughter. “Oh, Valar, Lindir; you’re right! She could indeed!”

Legolas actually smiled. With a babe in his lap, he seemed a different person than his usual serious and sober self. “I have seen the Lady Niriellen tilt her head and flutter her eyes that way many a time. I have always hated the way she does that.”

Tethrandil was the impassive soul of discretion as he leaned towards Rhiannel. “Go find Kíli. He should see this.”

“Oh, _otorno_ , it will be my pleasure!” Rhiannel scrambled out of his chair and ran off with a chortle.

Tethrandil rose soberly, approaching us with his hands behind his back. “Good afternoon, to you, dear ladies. Have you come to take the air after a hard morn of gossip and the trying on of clothes?”

“Which is this one?” Giriel turned a wide-eyed look on me and murmured in a not-very-private whisper. “Is this the king, or is this one of ours?”

“They look quite different, Giriel,” I waved an airy hand at Teth. “This one is ours. Teth something, if I remember aright.”

“Pfft,” Giriel dismissed my observation. “They both have white hair and grey eyes. Look, isn’t that him over there? I mean, truly... how is one to distinguish?”

I blinked at the king, and I turned to blink at Tethrandil. “I believe that one is the king, and this one is ambassador to an advisor. I mean, advisor to an ambassador.”

“Really!” Giriel looked as if I’d just fed her the juiciest tidbit of gossip in all the realm. “How interesting! Um, so which one is this one, then? The king, or... what was it again?”

“I am Tethrandil, special advisor of protocol to the Dwarvish ambassador of Imladris, and of the Blue Mountain Dwarves,” Teth informed her smoothly, bowing to us. “I’m delighted to make the acquaintance of two such delightful flitter-wits.”

“That is entirely too long a title,” Giriel said imperiously, but held out a limp hand. “Here, introduce me to the king one, so I can see for myself which one is which.”

Tethrandil took Giriel’s hand to lead her to the king. “This is King Thranduil, Lady Flitter-wit.”

I would not have had the nerve to rake the king with such an assessing look, then turn the same expression on Tethrandil. She offered the king a sketchy bow. “Ah. King Something, I greet thee.”

King Tethrandil took her hand with a bemused look on his face. “Lady Flitter-wit.”

Giriel bobbed a bow. “And Lord Elladan – no, that’s your son, isn’t it? And a wizard! How interesting!” She turned back to Tethrandil as if her attention had taken her wits far astray. “Yes, I can see you and the king are not the same. You are certainly not the king.”

Tethrandil shook his head gravely, though he was smiling at Giriel’s dismissive tone. “No, Lady.”

Giriel smirked at him. “I forgive you. But you may kiss my hand, nevertheless.”

Teth bent to take it, but he’d barely touched her fingers before she was turning away, seeing Kíli coming with Rhiannel. “Oh! My dear, look! There are two more of them! Now, are these ours, or theirs?”

I had to struggle not to laugh at Kíli. He’d been working hard, for his face was sweaty, his hair was tied back, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up past his elbow. His shirt was open at the neck, too, hinting at the delight beneath, and with his ringed ears he recalled the corsair I sometimes imagined him to be. He would have been a seductive sight but for his wide eyes and gaping mouth.

“T-T-Tauriel?” Kili breathed incredulously.

“I’m not sure,” I confided to Giriel with a giddy giggle. I linked arms with her and cocked my head at our _a’maelamins_ as if confused. “Ours, I think. Though I can’t be sure. Most Elvish lads look alike, don’t you think?”

Giriel wafted around Rhiannel, then Kíli. “One’s a bit shorter, perhaps. He looks like he’s been working, although I can’t imagine why he’d want to do that. What was it again that he was working on?”

I fluttered around them, then Legolas, just to drape my wrap over his face and draw it away as the Woodland Realm’s Lady Niriellen was wont to do, mistakenly thinking that it was seductive. He flinched as if I’d bitten him, and I heard a sharp bark of laughter from King Thranduil. “I can’t remember. Oh! Yes, I do! It was about jewelry.”

“I _love_ jewelry,” Giriel said dreamily, clasping her hands together. “No, I _adore_ jewelry. It adds that glow, don’t you think, Lady Flitter-bit? I’ve heard Lord Elrond’s brought some beautiful pieces with him. Something about discussing them with the king, but he’s lost one.”

“Has he?” I asked. “Which one? Oh, I did hear. The necklace that used to belong to the grand Lothlórien lady – what was her name? Glamdring?”

“Galad something. Galadriel.”

“Yes, her. Anyway, it was the necklace that needed cleaning.”

“I never understood that – about the necklace needing cleaning, I mean. Don’t they have jewelers in Imladris to do such things? Why did he have to bring it all this way just to have it cleaned?”

“Apparently, the necklace that our lord brought is special, though I can’t imagine why. Nor can I fathom why you’d ask a king to clean it. That seems rather... demeaning, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, that necklace. But it’s lost, isn’t it?”

“It was. I think it still is. But there’s still the diadem.”

“The diadem? I hope there’s nothing wrong with that one.”

“No. I saw it. It’s beautiful. A lovely spray of dreamflowers, just like the necklace. I’d love to try it on.”

“I have a diadem already,” Giriel said dismissively, wafting the edge of her wrap. “By the bye, did I tell you how much I _love_ those silver rings on your ears? Have you had them long? Perhaps I should get some. How do you get them to stay on?”

“My ears are pierced, Lady Flitter-wit.”

“Pierced?” Giriel looked alarmed. “You mean, as with a needle? You can’t mean it, Lady Flitter-bit!”

I nodded, leaning forward as if conveying a strict confidence. “Oh, but I do mean it. They’re very small holes. Still, they hurt quite badly! I had to pour ale on them. To complete the ritual. No, that’s not right. The ale was for the tattoo. Yes, the tattoo.”

Giriel wrinkled her nose. “Either way, it involved _needles_ , which are entirely too vulgar. It’s simply too, too dreadful to contemplate.”

“Still, I’d love to try on that diadem.”

“It’s awfully risky, Lady Flitter-bit.”

“It’s awfully pretty, Lady Flitter-wit. Beautiful rose pink gems. It would go with my pink dress.”

“You don’t look nice in pink, dear. I look better.”

“Then you try it on. I’ll loan you my pink dress to go with it. In fact, why don’t I trade you the pink dress for this one? You don’t look as nice in this one as I do, not at all.”

“Don’t be rude,” Giriel waved her hand with little concern. “It’s too much to bother about. I have a diadem already.” She cast Kíli and Rhiannel a look, as if she just remembered them. “Oh, my dear, those two... somethings are still here. Did you say they’re ours?”

“I think they are,” I smiled hazily, drifting the trailing end of my wrap in Kíli’s direction. “You know, I’m just not sure. Is the short one mine, or is the tall one? They both have dark hair, and you know how hard it is for me to tell such things apart.”

“They’re quite rude,” Giriel took my arm to urge me away. “Gaping the way they are. I don’t think we should associate with two who have the temerity to look so much alike, and gape besides.”

I drew Giriel to a halt to look back at our _a’maelamins_. “Maybe if we introduce ourselves, they’ll do the same, and then we’ll know whether they’re ours or theirs, and if they’re ours, which one is mine, and which one is yours.”

Kili had both hands over his mouth, and his face was red from trying not to laugh. I smiled, held out my hand, properly limp, and opened my eyes wide. Legolas shuddered in recognition of who had looked at him that way far too many times.

“Lady Flitter-wit – I mean Flitter-bit, from Imladris. Wife of the advisor – I mean the ambassador of... something or another. Those two words are so confusing, don’t you think? And you are...?”

Kíli took my hand in both of his and wouldn’t let me pull it away. “The ambassador himself, and your rather appalled husband, if truth be told.”

“You –” I looked back at my cohort. “Lady Flitter-wit, this one claims to be the ambassador. So I suppose he’s mine, and the other is yours. I can’t remember. Can you, dear?”

“I take it as a personal insult that my wife cannot remember her devoted husband,” Kíli snorted, and kept hold of my hand as he clambered atop Teth’s vacated chair. He pulled me close and planted an emphatic kiss on my lips. “Do you remember me now, you marvelously silly Lady Flitter-wit?”

“Lady Flitter- _bit_.” I kissed the tip of Kíli’s nose. “I think I do. Lady Flitter-wit, I’m rather sure that this one is mine.”

“Oh.” Giriel frowned as if she were puzzling it through. Her face cleared, and she smiled. “Oh. Well... that’s straight, then.” She offered Rhiannel her hand. “So this one must be mine. And you are...?”

“Quite impressed.” Laughing, Rhiannel bowed deeply over her hand. He gave her a spin, then let her hand go to applaud. Our friends were quick to join him. Gandalf and Lord Elrond were openly laughing, and if Legolas still winced at my pointed imitation of the Elf maid who galled him at so many Woodland gatherings, his father was chuckling. Ending our masquerade, Giriel and I bowed gracefully to one and all.

“What a right fair of flitter-wits the two of you make!” Kíli exclaimed, laughing. He clapped poor Lindir on the back. “You’ve rendered poor Lindir speechless!”

“I am not sure whether I should compliment you on the accuracy of your presentation,” Lord Elrond said, rubbing his chin, “or shudder.”

“Either way, it is very hard work!” Giriel took a deep breath.

“It is,” I agreed wholeheartedly. “Who knew that one needed to think so hard to seem so empty?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look Lady Fliri in the eye again,” Lindir shuddered, eying Giriel with mixed wariness and respect. “I’ll think of you pretending to be her, and...”

Our discreet Lindir laughed, then was so appalled at his lapse that he blushed.

 “I think Giriel has done you a service, Lindir,” Rhiannel chuckled. “There is little Lady Fliri can ever say to you from this point forward that will render you subject to her charms.”

“ _Charms_?” Lindir blurted, and blushed even redder. “Oh, Valar, Rhiannel, how you can even think... _charms_? Oh... _comys thoyn_!”

Whether Lindir was discomfited about Rhiannel’s teasing about Lady Fliri, or about lapsing enough to swear, wasn’t clear. Perhaps it was both. In any case, Lindir beat a hasty retreat down the nearest garden path to compose himself, leaving the rest of us to grin.

“I see your point about the Lady Niriellen,” King Thranduil nodded. “Even if your impression was a bit overdone, Tauriel.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Legolas said flatly. “If anything, Father, she was restrained.”

Everyone chuckled at the prince’s discomfiture, even the king.

“That was well done,” Gandalf pronounced it. “Unfortunately, it was not overdone in the case of our sweet Lady Fliri and her friends, either.”

“Now that we’ve actually tried to act like court blossoms, I wonder how many of them are actually smarter than they let on,” Giriel observed. “It is quite a lot of work to deliver such a sustained impression of...”

“Of ethereal oblivion,” I supplied, grinning. “It is much easier to appear smarter.”

“Whether it is or not, I’m glad both of you aren’t enamored of such silliness for yourselves,” Kíli asked, shaking his head. “Now, I’ve got to get back to the gold. I’ll need hands at the bellows shortly, if anyone would like to take the first stint.”

“I will, _a’maelamin_ ,” I said.

“So will I, Kíli,” Giriel echoed. “It’ll be a relief to do something useful after so much parading around in circles.”

“They were very illuminating circles,” Kíli said gallantly, bowing to us both.

“Let us change into something more suitable to pump hot air in a useful fashion, and we will attend,” I replied, smiling.

“Of course.”

“We’ll get back to our storytelling,” Rhiannel said. “Tauriel, if you’d bring some of Míriel’s toys back with you, we’ll see to Míriel.”

“And we’ll return to our storytelling as well,” Lord Elrond said, as he, Gandalf, and the king returned to their seats on the porch. Giriel turned a gleeful expression on me as we heard them snicker about our performance.

“Perhaps we made the impression we wanted, _osellë_ ,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder at the king, high lord, and wizard.

Kíli sidled up to us, offering us both a wink. “You were wonderful flitter-wits, though far more beautiful than any I’ve seen. I quite like that gown, Tauriel. It’s a lovely color, isn’t it? Maybe Giriel will tell you who made it for her, and you can get one like it for yourself when we get home. Maybe a purple one, too?”

“I’ll take her there myself,” Giriel promised.

“I thank you,” Kíli offered her a bow. “When you’re both ready, I’ve set up by the grove.”

He backed away, giving me a long look before turning away.

Chortling, Giriel gave me a conspiratorial grin and linked arms with me. “I told you he wouldn’t think you looked like a pumpkin. That should guarantee you a suitably spicy evening.”

I wisely didn’t reply. From Rhiannel’s reaction to Giriel’s apricot gown, I suspected that she would enjoy an evening no less savory. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! Our band of revelers in the Glawar-galad does much more work than partying today as they set about their plans to get the poisoned necklace back. Lord Elrond and Gandalf could teach a class in intrigue (and no, neither of them has Borgia as part of their secret names. They do have some scruples!). They could also teach a class in classic problem solving, which they hope King Thranduil and Legolas are wise enough to heed.
> 
> Enjoy the plotting. And Miriel's discovery of spoons :-).

Tauriel gave me quite a shock with her convincing impression of a complete flitter-wit. Oh, Giriel might have been the ringleader of the masquerade, but to see my strong, serious, competent warrior maid fall right in with Giriel was so unexpected, I didn’t know whether to dissolve into laughter or amazement, so I did both. It was rare that Tauriel ever giggled about anything, and she never acted frivolously. Then, in the space of a few moments, she did both! Several times! Thank the Valar that Tauriel was not the appalling waste of maidenhood she’d imitated.

Not everything about her performance was cringe-worthy. Tauriel was so beautiful no matter what she wore – or didn’t wear – but arrayed in a tunic the color of an autumn sunset, she was stunning, no matter how silly she acted. If she didn’t have something made for her in that color when we returned to Imladris, I’d see to it myself. I reveled to see my wife so turned out.

_Back to the present, Kíli. You’ve got gold to make._

Thanks to Legolas, I had an impressive array of equipment for making the diadem, from crucibles, wire molds, drawing tools, and so forth. So I built my fire, prepared the crucible in which I’d melt the metal, and measured out the right proportions of gold, silver, and copper. I planned to make two thicknesses of green gold wire for the stems and overall frame of the diadem, and one thickness of rose gold wire for the flower buds. The diadem would feature a single cluster of dreamflowers in its center, with leaves and buds to either side, and intertwined wire twists in the back. Together, the diadem and necklace would make a delicate frame for the wearer’s face. Most of the work would be to make the wire, and that’s all I planned to do today. That would take some time.

Before long, a pair of Elf maids, intelligence restored, came to help. Rhiannel, Lindir, Legolas, and Tethrandil with Míriel trailed behind; the latter four had decided to see what was involved, so they’d be better able to help when I needed them.

Once the fire had burned down to hot coals, I mixed the silver and gold for the green wire, and poured the thin ingots that would eventually become wire, as well as thin sheets for leaves. As soon as the thinner green ingots were cool enough, I freed them from their molds, prepared the molds anew, and melted copper and gold to make rose gold ingots. All of the Orc Spawn had taken a turn to work the bellows for me by that time; I was honored that Lord Elrond had, too, when several of the Orc Spawn split off with Legolas to discuss other parts of our plan. We were glad when that part was done.

Once I cleaned the thin ingots, the next step was to draw them, lengthening them with each pass through the drawing block into the thin, round wire I needed. This took some time, as I had prepared more ingots than I thought I’d need, just to be sure I had enough. The only help I needed for this was for the Elves to keep the drawing block anchored while I pulled the wire through it. In a normal workshop, the block would be fastened down so that the jeweler had only to pull the wire. But this was not the normal situation, and so we made do. There was little chatter during the process, as the Elves didn’t want to distract me, which I greatly appreciated.

At length, I had a goodly amount of green and rose gold wire, as well as extra gold of both colors to form leaves, stems, buds, and so forth. Tomorrow’s task would be to shape the beginnings of the diadem.

“You must be ravenous, Kíli,” Tauriel said in concern, when I tidied the table I was using as a worktable. She shepherded Míriel some yards away, beside a garden bench arrayed with our daughter’s wooden toys and doll. Míriel had discovered that unlike her auntie and uncles, the bench held still for as long as she liked to practice standing, and so she burbled to her toys in happy conversations of some length before resting on the grass. “All of us ate luncheon, but you worked straight through, I suppose to make the most of the daylight, yes?”

My grin was self-deprecating. “Did I? I hadn’t noticed. Yes, about the daylight, but that’s by the bye. When I work metal, I lose track of all else. Days can go by when I’m working on blades – you’ve seen me do that before. I wonder if it’s the tendency of just Dwarvish smiths to do that, or if Elvish ones or Men do it, too? Whether or no, I’m very hungry.”

“Supper has been provided. A very good one it is, too.”

“Do I have time for a wash? I’m likely rank.”

“Not terribly,” Tauriel assured me, but she had a bit of a sly smile about her. “No one will mind if you wash after.”

I eyed her. “What, hoping for another look at a Dwarf bathing in the _Glawar-galad_?”

Tauriel smiled at memory of the first look she’d had of the naked lad she’d so entranced two years ago. “That would be delightful. Do you know one who might oblige me?”

“I know one eager to oblige you in all sorts of ways.”

Humming, Tauriel’s gaze turned anticipatory as she joined me by the table. Her fingers caressed my ear and the ring in it, traced through my hair to my nape, and insinuated themselves in my mane.

“Stop it, or I’ll oblige the two of us right now, no matter who’s watching and no matter how rank I am.”

“If you insist,” she teased, smiling, slipping her fingers free.

If her touches aroused me, the lack of them did more. I glowered at her as I rearranged my trews and smalls. “ _Skator_ , Tauriel. You are the most provoking of maids.”

“It keeps us both interested, _amrâlimê_ ,” she gave me a benign smile that waxed to a chuckle when she saw me try to subdue myself.

“It’s going to keep you busy half the night,” I growled. “But supper first, or I won’t last a moment.”

“Then supper, by all means, Tauriel gestured towards the supper table with an anticipatory smile. “I believe it is roast chicken.”

“I want to wash my hands before I come to table.”

Tauriel collected Míriel and her toys. “So do I. And Míriel’s need a wash, too.”

We walked to the pond, where we all bathed our hands and faces in the cool water. As I took Míriel in my arms, I looked up at the waterfall that I’d fallen over two years ago. It was thirty feet high, more than high enough to kill me if I’d landed in the pond the least bit off. As it was, I had knocked myself out, and had been lucky not to drown before I came to. That had been the day I’d left many things behind, the worst of which was my brother. But I had gained many things, too, one of which was impatiently patting my cheek.

“Supper, Tada,” Míriel insisted. “Supper.”

“We’re going,” I assured her, taking her hand and kissing it. “Can you say, ‘roast chicken’?”

“Mmm,” Míriel replied, eyes bright.

“Close enough,” I laughed, holding my hand out to Tauriel. “‘Mmm’ is what I call it a lot of the time, too.”

We hurried to the grassy court near our chambers where our friends, the prince, and the king were already helping themselves from the array of dishes. In addition to the promised roast chicken, there were slices of venison in rich gravy, bowls of three kinds of salad, dishes of fruits, a tureen of what smelled like carrot soup, and a mountain of small seeded rolls. The usual Elvish desserts of cakes, nuts, and cheeses were also abundant, and carafes of wine and water sat at either end of the table.

“It smells wonderful,” I breathed, my mouth watering. Míriel bounced in my arms, so excited was she. “You think so, too, don’t you Miri? You can’t wait to try it all, can you?”

We wasted no time in helping ourselves, and soon laughter and conversation flowed as we shared the delicious dishes. I’d certainly found the cuisine during this visit to the Woodland Realm far superior to what I’d sampled during my first one, when I’d been a prisoner in a cell. Then, the bread, cheese, and sliced meat had been of good quality, but far from good quantity. I much preferred to partake as an ambassador than as a trespasser.

Out of deference to my missing lunch, Tauriel saw to Míriel first, giving me a few moments to make serious inroads on the food. I’d worked hard during the last two years to improve my table manners, but it was still hard not to cram everything down my gullet, so hungry was I. But I held to my manners, thinking how Fíli would have laughed to see me trying to spare the sensibilities of Elves. If he’d come down this path with me – and Valar, how I wished that he had! – he would have done the same. Thinking about him in this place, the place where I’d first lost him, was some comfort. But nothing would ever resign me to his loss.

When the worst edge of my hunger had passed, I took over Míriel so Tauriel had her turn to eat. Míriel sat in my lap and grabbed for everything within reach, but that soon stopped as I fed her bits of one thing or another. She had gotten the hang of spoons, so slurped down quite a lot of the soup. Perhaps the venison was all right, but it was a bit sharper in flavor than she preferred, and so she happily took tiny shreds of her favorite chicken in its juice from my spoon. Cups were easier now, and she didn’t get completely soaked anymore, only damp. Tauriel mashed up some of the tubers for her, and I added a little chicken in its juice, which she thought was fine. Even cake crumbs weren’t so delicious to her as her improvised chicken potato stew. I admit that it looked so good that I ate a lot of it with her.

In between seeing to Míriel and laughing with our friends, I kept an eye on King Thranduil and Legolas to see how they meshed with our group. Rhiannel had made a point to engage the prince, and Lord Elrond had drawn Tethrandil into his conversation with King Thranduil. The two of them subtly edged the conversation from trade negotiations to the coming emigration of my folk, and I came over with Míriel to join in. It was casual, but I was impressed at how both Lord Elrond and Tethrandil interwove some of the basic issues into the exchange, and how they set me up to provide the Dwarves’ perspective just as if we talked among friends. I’d never worked so hard to appear casual, friendly, and trustworthy.

The sun was falling when we sat back, replete. Lindir started the carafe of dessert wine around the table, and the plates of cakes, cheeses, and nuts followed it. When we all had our treats before us, Lord Elrond contemplated his glass.

“We have made a good start on our campaign to take back the necklace,” he said. “Kíli, you have made your gold wires for the diadem. What will be your next step?”

“Tomorrow’s plan is to make the frame for the diadem, and then shape the golden leaves and petals I’ll need. If that goes well, I’ll craft the settings for the gems, too. Then comes polishing and fitting. I’ll set the stones last. I hope two more days is all I’ll need, but I allowed an extra one in case.”

“Excellent!” the high lord sat back in satisfaction. “Even if you require your fourth day, Kíli, we will still return to the main part of the cavern well before dawn after the night we came here.”

I did not look at Tauriel, for my eyes would have revealed how I’d prefer to spend that fourth day, diadem be damned. It’d been a long time since my wife and I could take our ease for several days at a stretch to play with Míriel during the day, and each other at night. My friends would had understood and laughed at my expression, but I didn’t want the high lord of Imladris or the king of the Woodland Realm to think that my wife’s graces were all I thought about. So I contented myself with a single nod, as did everyone else.

Lord Elrond turned next to our maids. “Tauriel and Giriel have given serious thought and diligent practice for the masquerade they will play if the chance arises.” Everyone laughed at the high lord’s tongue-in-cheek characterization of the two maids’ inspired demonstration, even King Thranduil. “Have you made any refinements to your approach?”

“We have,” Tauriel nodded, looking at Giriel. “While I did not attend many of the Woodland Realm’s events as a participant, I an still known well enough that I cannot act the flighty maid I played this afternoon. Giriel, though, is not known, so she will seem to be the most fluttery of flitter-wits, partner to the serious Advisor Rhiannel. It is also known that I do not drink often, so Giriel will lead me astray by encouraging overconsumption of the king’s heady wine.”

“We will pretend that I have heard rumor of the diadem,” Giriel continued. “I will press Tauriel to reveal more, because I think that the wife of the ambassador would know more than I. Eventually, I will wear her down, and when we sneak off for her to show it to me, we hope that the thief follows.”

“We want to see what tale Legolas, Rhiannel, Tethrandil, and Lindir have spun about the necklace so we know how what particulars to mention along the way,” Tauriel concluded. “But the gist of our part is as we’ve described.”

“Those are prudent changes,” Lord Elrond agreed. “I am gratified to see that you have addressed the same things that concerned me, specifically about Tauriel.”

“Those changes will work well with our tale, as you call it,” Tethrandil noted. “If you would like to describe the supposed provenance of the diadem first, my lord? I expect that once we hear it, we will adjust our tale to match it.”

“Ah,” Lord Elrond murmured, casting Gandalf and King Thranduil a look ripe with meaning. “The provenance. That is entwined with the glamour we intend to cast on the diadem, and that glamour, my friends, is fraught with risk that I cannot fully describe to you. However, given that you will all bear this risk, I will tell you what I can. I require your word that you will not allude to what I am about to tell you, even among yourselves, even when you think you enjoy the strictest privacy, now and forever more.”

We looked among ourselves, but there was no hesitation on anyone’s part. We all murmured our word, and so Lord Elrond proceeded.

“There is magic in Middle Earth, as you know.” We all nodded. “Some of it watches over the world to its betterment, but some of it does not. Some of what originally began as good is no longer, because the Dark Lord and his minions corrupted it. Some of what began as good now must remain hidden so that it does not suffer that same corruption.

“We have learned that our thief hunts for instruments of this hidden magic, whether good or evil, whether corrupt or not. The provenance we have devised will allude to these instruments, even though the necklace is not one of them, nor will Kíli’s diadem be one.

“We will say that the matched set of necklace and diadem were crafted long ago for the Lady Galadriel. The necklace was stolen, and ended up in the dragon’s hoard, where it lay beneath the dragon for so long that its nature changed as the dragon’s poison soaked into it for a millennium. The diadem remained in Lady Galadriel’s hands. When the necklace was rediscovered in Imladris, I informed Lady Galadriel of how the gold was poisoned, and so we have brought it to the Woodland Realm to Thranduil, the wisest in dragon lore. Our hope is that the king can cleanse the necklace so that we can reunite it with the diadem. If we can bring the two pieces back into harmony, then we restore their combined magic.”

I patted Míriel’s back gently as I absorbed the high lord’s story. “Just to settle this in my thoughts, my lord... there isn’t any magic in the necklace, only poisoned gold, yes?”

Lord Elrond nodded. “That is right, Kíli.”

“And there isn’t a way to cleanse the necklace, is there?” I asked.

King Thranduil shook his head. “Nothing, neither the heat of the deepest mountain fires, nor even the heat of the dragon itself, can remove the taint from the gold.”

“Do you think the thief knows that, too?” Giriel asked.

“I do not know, but we will assume he does,” Lord Elrond replied.

“So you want to link the necklace to the Lady Galadriel to give it importance,” Rhiannel said quietly. “Then you want to link the diadem to the necklace, to give the illusion of age, as well as the possibility of it being an agent of this hidden magic. In this way, even if our thief knows the necklace is beyond cleansing, the potential of the diadem’s unspoiled power will draw him to want it.”

“Not just to want it,” Tethrandil continued. “You hope he’s greedy enough to try to steal it.”

“Which offers us the chance to trap him,” concluded Lindir. “That leads me to ask a difficult question, my lord.”

Lord Elrond regarded his aide serenely. “And what is this difficult question, Lindir?”

Lindir did not dissemble, look nervous, or hesitate. He looked the high lord in the eye and asked, “If we go to all this effort to create the illusion of power to draw the thief, he must offer serious threat. Is the necklace the only threat available to him?”

“No,” Lord Elrond replied.

“May we ask what this other threat is, my lord?” Lindir went on.

“Mithrandir and I agree on this,” Lord Elrond said. “Our thief does not merely search for instruments of this hidden magic. Either he or someone associated with him also wields them, though for what purpose we do not yet understand. This puts us and many other folk at great risk in doing so. As important as retrieving the necklace is, it is more important that we discover the extent of this hidden magic, and put an end to it before the Dark Lord avails himself of it.”

Lord Elrond watched us digest his revelations. After a sip of wine, he turned his regard on Legolas, Lindir, Tethrandil, and Rhiannel. “Now that you have your provenance, what story can you spin for us?”

“A moment, my lord,” Tethrandil asked, and he and his fellows murmured lowly among themselves for a short time. When they came to agreement, they turned back to us.

“Now that we have the provenance, much of what we devised still holds. We thought to take advantage of what Legolas told us about King Thranduil’s court suppers,” Tethrandil began. “Not all are as formal as what we took part in last night, where we were seated and food was brought to us. Others are akin to the less formal buffets we have at home – attendees help themselves and then circulate for conversation. Legolas described these Woodland Realm suppers this way – ‘appetites are keen for gossip more than food, and alliances shift between trips to the buffets.’ That would be the perfect venue where we may flavor the gossip with our own.”

“The maids’ performance will be at the buffet, then?” I asked.

“Not entirely,” Rhiannel grinned. It was a crafty expression, drawing all us to raise our eyebrows. “Now that we have heard Lord Elrond’s tale, it is clear that what we want the thief to hear should not be divulged to all ears. So we require an Act One that will lead to the maids’ Act Two before a much smaller audience.”

Giriel snorted. “How are Tauriel and I to do that, Rhiannel? Start a fight over supper with this thief – whom we haven’t yet identified – so as to get all three of us thrown out of the supper hall and into a cell together?”

Tethrandil chuckled at the maid’s half-joking question. “The fight will not be with the thief. He will watch from the sidelines.”

“So who are we going to fight with?” Giriel held out her hands.

Laughing, Rhiannel bowed from his chair towards the maid. “That, _a’maelamin_ , will be my privilege. And Kíli’s.”

I muttered an Orcish oath under my breath, but my lips tugged up despite my best efforts to be serious. “Valar, lad. Why do I work so hard on my manners when you Elves keep finding reasons for me to forget them?”

“At least this time,” Tethrandil grinned most unsympathetically, “it will be for a good cause.”

“I’ve never thrown a single cake without good cause,” I riposted, “and look at the trouble it’s gotten me into.”

“Then here is your chance for even more,” Gandalf said quietly.

I thought the wizard’s eyes twinkled entirely too much. They were almost as bright as mine.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> Kili continues to work on the diadem, and the Orc Spawn continue to work on the making of tales. As for what Lord Elrond and Gandalf are up to...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> kurvanog shakutarbik = fucking Dwarf

Once the initial joking about Rhiannel and me fighting with Giriel and Tauriel in public subsided, we got down to business. Maybe Lord Elrond couldn’t tell us much about this hidden magic, but just a mention of Sauron was enough for me to take it seriously. That evil creature had created all the varieties of Orcs to devil Middle Earth, and the amount of suffering he’d inflicted on them, and they in turn on us, was nothing to laugh about. So we spent time devising the right kind of a spat between maids and lads, one suitably veiled and gossip-worthy for King Thranduil’s court. By the time we were satisfied, it was full dark, and the lamps scattered through the garden glowed like amber fireflies. Huge white moonflowers unfurled from their tight buds into pale disks as bright and as big as any orb in the sky, and their perfume filled the air.

“I’m for a splash in the pond,” I said, as our conversation waned. “Any other takers? Miri, my little jewel, would you like to splash with your Taad?”

All of the Orc Spawn – we included Lindir with us now, given all the time he spent with us, and his help had been invaluable – decided to join in, leaving Lord Elrond, King Thranduil, Legolas, and Gandalf to discuss their doings in private. Thankfully, the pond was out of sight of the eminent members of our gathering, so I stripped bare and waded in with Míriel, giving Tauriel a backward glance, reminding her of the last time she’d watched me wade naked into the water. Her intent look told me that she wasn’t merely enjoying Míriel’s excited burblings. Giriel was equally quick to leave her clothing on the shore, unconcerned about which of her friends saw her naked. It was the first bare maid from Imladris I’d seen, and she was beautiful, without doubt. Anyone who saw her would think she was a Valar, so ethereal was she. Even when she mugged at how cold the water was, she was still beautiful, if not quite so ethereal. I wondered if the Valar ever indulged in Orcish cursing. If they did, then they had their model in Giriel.

The rest of the Orc Spawn followed Giriel and me into the pond, which was soon the sight of Elvish water games. We used a bath sponge as a ball to play keep-away, a good, brisk game to help us get used to the cold water. A watery version of our steppe game, where Lindir and I tried to get the sponge past Rhiannel and Giriel, evolved into more splashing than anything else, and I had a right laugh at how Lindir had loosened up enough to splash as good as he got, though when Giriel tackled him, he was quite flustered. For the next bout, I was on the sidelines to shepherd Míriel. I gave us both a good soaping and watched Giriel and Tauriel take on Lindir and Tethrandil, with Rhiannel acting the referee. The two maids were fierce competitors, and ganged up on Tethrandil to dunk him unmercifully. When Rhiannel protested, both maids turned on him, and he found himself similarly deluged. Laughing, Lindir ducked out of the way and waded to safety with Míriel and me.

“So should I come looking for you when the first batch of Dwarves inundate Imladris’s fountains, then?” I teased. “You can teach them the keep-away game.”

Lindir barely blanched. “I do have a better appreciation of fountain bathing,” he admitted shamefacedly, taking Míriel’s hand as she reached out to him. “But I still do not think it would go over well with the rest of Imladris.”

“Likely not,” I grinned. “I’ll have to find a suitable place on the Bruinen to make a bathing pool, I suppose. Or make sure the accommodations have bathing tubs. Dwarves don’t have such things in their houses, but given how much I’ve come to appreciate them, the Blue Mountain Dwarves likely will, too. Makes the fountains less attractive, at any rate.”

“And much easier to keep clean. Much less hair to fish out of the plumbing!” Lindir agreed, grinning. Yes, our bookish aide to Lord Elrond was loosening up.

The temperature of the water meant our games didn’t last long; the Elves chilled much faster than I did, and Míriel was beginning to shiver, too, so we called ourselves clean enough, and waded out to dry and dress. Gandalf had lit a pleasant fire in the center of our dining courtyard, and we gathered there to wind down. I brought out my fiddle, Tethrandil had a flute, and Rhiannel used one of the metal dinner platters as a hand drum, and we ended the evening with music. My fiddle had rarely sounded so good than when accompanied by Elvish singing and dancing. We bade each other a cheerful goodnight soon after.

Cheerfully was only the start to how I bid my sweet wife goodnight shortly thereafter. She was no more restrained, so neither of us had any reason to complain.

I did not laze about the next morning, but bid Tauriel a proper good morn – if we did not make our second child in this place, it would not be for lack of trying – and wolfed down my breakfast with all speed. I had a diadem to make – not just any diadem, but one fit for an Elvish queen – and I wanted to set to the task at once.

With the shaping frames and smoothing tools that Legolas had provided, I made the basic gold wire framework quickly. The trickier part was to make the leaves in green gold, the flower buds, and the petals for the central flower spray. For this, I needed only the small sheets of gold I’d made yesterday, tiny hammers, and a small anvil. I cut out the delicate shapes, smoothed the edges, and embossed them with the same details that the necklace had featured. When I had a nice collection of them, I had Giriel put on the unadorned diadem, and decided where I would place the leaves and buds. I soldered the pieces in place, and was well pleased with the overall appearance.

Now, where to put the gems? The pink rubies were easy enough, for they’d go where I’d made the buds. I sketched out the piece with the leaves and flowers in place, and was mulling the best places to showcase the white adamant gems when I realized I was squinting.

“Will this help?” Tauriel’s voice soothed. She set a lamp down on my worktable, startling me with how bright it was. I looked up – yes, I’d been lost in my smith’s reverie again, and it was getting dark.

“How does the time pass so quickly?” I exhaled, sitting back. “It was just early morn not half an hour ago, and now it’s dark.”

Tauriel came to sit by me on the bench and leaned near to study my drawing and the unfinished diadem. “The mark of a craftsman, I would deem it. It’s beautiful already, Kíli, and it’s not done yet.”

I leaned close to kiss her cheek and stroke her hair. “Thank you, _amrâlimê_. It will look even better on Giriel. It suits her.”

“Do you make jewelry for another maid, rather than for your wife?” she teased.

“I make this for no maid at all, just a good cause. When we get home to Imladris, I’ll make something worthy of you. These gems are beautiful, but they’re too cold and pale for a fiery Elf warrior maid. You need full red rubies or deep emeralds.”

“Perhaps both.”

I laughed. “That would be overdone, and you are not overdone. Everyone would look at your jewelry rather than you, and that would be a lost opportunity to behold something much more beautiful than mere metal and crystal.”

Tauriel dropped her teasing banter to regard me tenderly. “You have a romantic soul, Kíli.”

I slipped my arm around her waist and drew her close to kiss. “Only for the right Elf maid.”

Tauriel put her hands on my shoulders, and graced me with a long, lingering kiss. When her fingers traced down my spine and through my mane, my breath caught, and I eased her over to straddle my lap. “Stop it. Or I’ll have you on this bench, and given that someone’s coming up the path, that could be embarrassing.”

“We’ve been known to set a bad example before.”

I grinned. “Giriel and Rhiannel already tend to each other almost as much as we do. Who else are you trying to incite? Our Woodland hosts? Or Teth and Lindir?”

“Teth and Lindir would be a good pairing,” was Tauriel’s surprising reply. “They are much alike, and Teth’s experience balances Lindir’s eagerness, and vice versa. But as I do not know the preferences of either, I do not intrude.”

I nuzzled Tauriel’s throat. “Maybe they don’t know themselves. Once they sort it out in the next three or four hundred years, we can play the matchmakers.”

Tauriel eased away from me to look deeply in my eyes. “I will hold you to that, Kíli. You will be with me in four hundred years.”

Her emerald eyes were so beautiful in the amber lamplight, and her hair was gilded with the same amber light. I smiled at my beautiful wife, took up her hand, and kissed her fingers.

“It will delight me to spend four times that long, and three times the total over again with you, _amrâlimê_. Now, who’s coming up the path to witness my promise?”

“What am I to witness?” Giriel replied, smiling, pulling a comb through her wet hair. “Hmm. From appearances, perhaps I should not witness anything that ensues from this moment on.”

Tauriel chuckled, matching my unapologetic grin. “Oh, it is nothing much. Just another declaration of eternal love from a dark Dwarf to a fiery Elf maid.”

Giriel rolled her eyes. “Lovers are as full of sugar as a custard cake, and twice as gooey. They think it’s charming, when it’s really terribly cloying to everyone around them. I’m here to tell you that supper’s arrived, and what you choose to do about that after I leave is your own affair.”

She headed back the way she came, but then stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Though... if you plan to engage in something exotic, I can stay to witness that. In fact, I can fetch Rhiannel to witness, too. We’re always interested in learning new means of delight.”

Tauriel’s gasp was incredulous, but my laugh was hearty. “Sort out your bits on your own, maid! And don’t tell me you don’t know how!”

“You’re a _kurvanog shakutarbik,_ Kíli _,”_ Giriel laughed heartily, and headed back to the supper table.

“I certainly am!” I sent after the maid with a snicker. I used Tauriel’s distraction to give the hollow at her throat a quick nuzzle and went down from there. “Sure I can’t tempt you into something exotic before supper?”

“Why does a quick couple in the most outrageous places tempt you so much when we have a perfectly delightful bedding chamber where we can take our time?” Tauriel asked dreamily, her eyes blissfully shut.

I grinned. “If you saw your face right now, you wouldn’t have to ask. Because it _is_ outrageous, of course, and I can’t resist the spark in your eyes when I touch you when you don’t expect me to. Just as you can’t resist ambushing me in the same fashion.”

She looked back at me with a crooked smile. “I do enjoy that. But I would prefer not to engage in something outrageous when the high lord of Imladris or the king of the Woodland Realm might come upon us, which would not be dignified.”

I winced, laughing, and suddenly found my ardor cooling, which was probably for the best. I patted Tauriel’s back, eased her off my lap, and heaved myself up with an exaggerated sigh. “Lord Elrond would be bad enough. The king... eh. Now that I think about it, I’m ravenous, anyway. So supper it shall be, and delight later.”

Tonight’s supper was just as delicious as last night’s had been, and we lingered long over the dishes. I hadn’t seen my daughter all day, so I delighted in spending time with her, so much so that I passed on the water games to splash with her in the shallows. She must have gotten a lot of attention from Tauriel, her auntie Giriel, and her uncles, for she quickly tired, and was ready for her evening snack early. Tauriel and I bade the rest of our company good night, and retreated to our chamber. I was more tired than I thought, for I was drowsing by the time Tauriel finished feeding Míriel. I roused to give our bairn a clean diaper and tuck her into her cradle with her doll and squeaky ball. Tauriel and I took advantage of the quiet to sleepily attend to each other, and I fell asleep quickly.

 

* * *

 

_“How goes your work with Lord Elrond and Mithrandir, father?”_

_Thranduil paused to look back at the Elves gathered by the fire in the courtyard. Kíli and Tauriel had retired with their babe – she was an engaging child, he was forced to admit – but the rest of the Imladris Elves remained beside their lord and the wizard. Unforced laughter drifted towards him, such a contrast to the often-affected amusement he heard at his court._

_“Lord Elrond is wise, gracious, and genuine,” he told his son._

_“I like him,” Legolas confided. “So do his folk.”_

_“His folk are rarely serious about anything.”_

_“It is true that they laugh a great deal. But I have found them to be very serious despite their laughter. And they are devoted to their lord.”_

_Thranduil hummed. “I have not seen a lord so willing to overlook irreverence.”_

_“They are not irreverent about anything that matters, father. Working with them has been a pleasure.”_

_Thranduil looked at his son. Legolas had always been serious, and so he was now, but there was a lightness in his mien that Thranduil had rarely seen. “How so?”_

_“Because they made me welcome among them, without hesitation. Because when they face a problem, they consider everything and anything, no matter how ridiculous or improbable, to solve it. When they cannot think of anything more, they sort among all they have considered and take the best of their ideas to their lord, and sort again with his guidance. Even the most ridiculous ideas can have merit, and they are not afraid to consider them, because their lord wants the best solution, not the most serious one. Sometimes it takes just a word from Lord Elrond or Mithrandir to turn the silliest idea into a much more serious one. The flitter-wit is a good example.”_

_Despite himself, Thranduil grinned. “Tauriel ventured on the criminal with her impression of Lady Niriellen.”_

_Legolas snorted very like the maid Giriel. “No, she didn’t. If anything, she was restrained. You have no idea how tiresome Lady Niriellen is when you are not there to watch her troll for me as if I were a fish.”_

_“She is not the worst of the lot.”_

_“She is a menace. I beg you, do not encourage her. I cannot abide her, or any other maid with so little between her delicate ears but intrigue and gossip.”_

_Legolas was atypically vehement, again drawing Thranduil to consider him. “You would prefer to see maids at court with more substance, then. Ones like the inventive Giriel, perhaps? Or our rebellious Tauriel?”_

_“Tauriel would be a grace to our court or any other, but she has made her life elsewhere,” Legolas said softly. “She has everything in Imladris that we should have offered her here, father. She is smart, and true, and a source of good counsel that I valued because it was honest rather than merely words I wanted to hear.”_

_“You say she is true? Despite Erebor? After that, you call her true?”_

_“I do,” Legolas said firmly._

_“You actually miss her.”_

_“I do. I am glad that she has found a place among those who value her, and who care for her. I wish her nothing but happiness.”_

_With a nod, Legolas turned aside, went up the porch stairs, and disappeared inside his chamber, leaving Thranduil in the shadows on the path._

_Behind him, the Imladris Elves laughed at one of Rhiannel’s jests. Lord Elrond’s rich laughter was easy to pick out, as was Giriel’s robust chortle. He stood there for some time, listening._


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Kili's about to have a hard day at the office, and who can tell whether what he's done will reap benefits or disaster? All he's sure about is that he misses Tauriel and Miriel very much. Who knew being an ambassador would be so convoluted?
> 
> Hope you enjoy the earnest efforts of our favorite dark Dwarf!

I was going to finish the diadem today, no matter what. All I had left to do was set the gems, and if I were careful about it, I’d be done by luncheon. Then perhaps Lord Elrond would look kindly on me and let me spend the afternoon playing with Tauriel and Míriel. After two days in the _Glawar-galad_ , I hadn’t yet walked with Tauriel along the paths where we’d first courted, if being a prisoner escorted by his jailor counts as courting. We hadn’t gone to look for rare flowers by the waterfall, or to see if the runes I’d carved for her had been left to etch the cavern walls, or to find out if the crack through which we’d escaped back into Middle Earth still remained. I hadn’t even been able to play with Míriel and her toys other than briefly after supper. All I’d done was smith.

At least time had passed quickly during my smith’s reverie, but I was ready for another kind of intensity to spice my daylight hours. So I got up even before Tauriel came back to our chamber with Míriel, bolted breakfast, kissed my family quickly in passing, and marched off to my worktable. The little box of gems waiting on the table beckoned to me, so I arranged a piece of thickly napped suede in front of my bench, and drew the diadem close. There was a pair of particularly large and beautiful rose rubies I wanted to flank the central dreamflower –

“Good morn, Kíli.”

Startled, I looked up from the diadem. On the other side of the table was Gandalf, smiling benignly.

“Um, good morn?” I queried warily.

“I understand that you’ve made good progress on the diadem.”

“Yes,” I ventured. “And...?”

The wizard picked up the drawing I’d made of the diadem to decide where to place the gems. “Your design is beautiful. A compelling match to the necklace.”

Anytime a wizard took such pains to be so ingratiating meant that something was up. I took the jeweler’s lens off my forehead to give this wizard a jaundiced look.

“But...?”

Gandalf pursed his lips, managing to look reproving and forlorn at the same time. I narrowed my gaze and regarded him over my folded arms.

“The last time someone gave me that look, it was my brother. He wanted me to boost him up to the neighbor’s kitchen sill to steal a cooling apple crumble that was just out of his reach. So out with it. Sir.”

Gandalf’s eyes twinkled as he put down the drawing, and his smile was appreciative of how well I’d divined the shady nature of his visit. By the time he sat down opposite me, however, his expression was serious.

“I must ask you to trust me, Kíli. I can answer no question you might think to ask, and you cannot speak of this to anyone other than Lord Elrond or me.”

“It’s about the glamour, then. The one you’ll put on the diadem.”

The wizard harrumphed, though whether it was because I’d known, or some other reason, I didn’t know. “Apparently I must ask you to hold your tongue, too,” he growled, looking hard at me. I didn’t suppress a conspiratorial smile, but that turned his hard look into a full glare. “And while you are silent, I expect you to treat this seriously. You have no idea of the risks that we are about to embark upon –”

He broke off with a muttered curse, but it wasn’t funny. To break a wizard’s composure meant this was even more serious then he’d said.

“Sorry,” I mouthed, holding up my hands.

His glare faded a bit, but he seemed as grim as he’d been many times during our trip to Erebor two years ago. Given how risky that enterprise had been, this one must be, too, so I sat in silence, without a smile, and waited for him to say whatever it was he’d come to say.

“Show me the diadem.”

I drew off the cloth that covered the piece, and gestured towards it.

“It _is_ well done, and it _is_ a good match to the necklace.”

I put my hand on my heart and nodded my thanks.

He looked at me with exasperation, his lips thinning, but I didn’t grin like a rascal. He’d told me to be quiet, so come all the Orcs in Gundebad, I’d be quiet.

“How soon will it be done? And don’t fancy yourself a pantomime clown. Just tell me.”

“Today. I have only to set the stones.”

He hummed to himself. “I want you to make a small addition to the diadem.”

My eyebrows went up. That wasn’t al all what I expected him to say. “What kind of... addition?”

He pointed to the cluster of dreamflowers. “This is the front of the diadem, yes?”

“Yes, but...”

A sharp look silenced me. “May I pick it up?”

I gestured permission. He glared at me again.

“Valar, Gandalf,” I protested. “First I can talk, then I can’t, then I can, and now I can’t again. Just tell me what you want.”

He rumbled grudgingly as he took up the diadem gently to study it. He looked most closely at the central dreamflower. “Where will you place the gems?”

I gestured to the drawing he’d regarded earlier. “Seven adamants go in the center of the dreamflower, and three each in the centers of the two flanking flowers. A rose ruby goes in each of the buds. There are ten of those, five on each side.”

“And how will you set the adamants of the central blossom?”

I pulled over my drawing tablet and pen, sketching a large picture of the mount. “It’ll look like they’re embedded flush in the rose gold. It’ll be slightly domed the way the center of the real flower is.”

“That will work, I think, and would be less obtrusive than what I had in mind.”

What in Middle Earth was he on about? But I was too wary to ask, and so sat biting my tongue while the wizard stared at the diadem as if it had asked him a question he didn’t know the answer to. After some moments, he sighed.

“Well, there’s nothing but to do it. I want you to hide something underneath the center of the flower.”

“What?” When he glared at me, I met his expression apologetically. “I have to know how big of a thing has to fit, don’t I? It’s not as if I can get an oliphaunt under there.”

He held out his hand. In his palm lay a thin gold band that broadened to hold a single red stone. It was a deceptively small, plain, unadorned, simple ring, yet somehow I knew I looked at one of the rarest and most important relics of Middle Earth – it was one of those instruments of magic that Lord Elrond had described, I was sure of it. Now I knew how the high lord and Gandalf planned to endow my poor diadem with its glamour. They were going to seed it with the real thing.

To say I gulped was an understatement. Better to say that my heart nearly stopped.

“Gandalf,” I breathed. “You can’t mean to risk something so rare and precious just for a ruse –”

“It will not be a ruse.”

I gulped again. “But –”

“Quiet. You know not what is at risk.”

“I know damned well!” I whispered impatiently. “A wizard and the high lord of Imladris are about to risk something very important to chase down a comparatively petty thief. I think the two of you have taken leave of your _kurvanog_ senses!”

“And since when have you gained sense enough to know?” Gandalf shot back.

“That depends on when the two of you lost so much of yours that I look brilliant in comparison!”

With great difficulty, Gandalf held his tongue. He looked tired, which made me ashamed for baiting him.

“I’m sorry. If you say I don’t know, then I don’t. But... I know enough to understand a little about how much you’re risking, and I don’t want you to for the sake of a petty thief.”

“I appreciate your worry. But... I will tell you this much, Kíli, and hope I do not risk your life for saying it. This thief isn’t petty. I cannot tell how much damage he has done. But he has the knowledge to do far more. He could bring down this kingdom if he chose to exert himself. And if he does so, other lands may follow. Erebor was only the opening gambit in a much larger conflict, and we do not have so many assets that we can afford to lose any of them.”

“This is ultimately about Sauron, then,” I murmured.

Gandalf nodded, reluctantly.

I exhaled. “All right. I assume I can’t alter that,” I nodded to the ring in the wizard’s hand.

“No.”

“I assume I shouldn’t touch that, either.”

“It would not be wise, no.”

I took the diadem, and held it with the central dreamflower pointing up. I pointed to the middle where the adamants would go. “Then hold it there, so I can see how it fits.”

Gandalf positioned the ring as I’d asked. It was bigger than the center of the flower – no, it wasn’t. It had been, but when I blinked in surprise, it had shrunk to just slightly smaller than the center of the flower. I looked up at Gandalf suspiciously, but his gaze was on the ring, so I returned my gaze to it, too. The stone jutted up a bit, but if I angled it to one side, I could bend one of the petals around it to make room, and add a little more green gold that would help to anchor the ring in place, as well as bring the petal in alignment with its mates.

“I can cage it in place, or I can solder it in place. The latter means that hot metal will touch the ring, and will have to be melted off again later. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“No.”

“A cage, then. That will take a little longer.” I looked around. “How long before someone else wanders by to see what we’re doing?”

“No one will wander by. Our company thinks we are about magic, and in a way we are. Proceed, as you need to. I will stay until it’s done.”

Swallowing, I took the diadem from Gandalf, and set to. It took time to make a tiny cage sturdy enough to hold the ring securely that still looked like the center of a delicate flower, but the embedded adamants helped it look much lighter than it was. When the cage was ready, I nodded to Gandalf.

“Place it in the center, then.”

He did, angling it as I directed. The cage went on top, and I carefully soldered it securely in place. The gems went on top, and the center was done. It looked no heavier than what I’d originally planned, so the addition was not obvious. Setting the rest of the gems went much more quickly, for their mounts didn’t need so much care as the center had. I gave everything a careful cleaning and polishing, buffed the gems, and it was finished.

“You’ll want to hang on to it, I imagine,” I said, handing the diadem to Gandalf. “Did King Thranduil find a mithril box for it?”

“We will not put it in one,” Gandalf practically snarled.

“Why not?” I blurted, mouth agape.

“That is not your concern.”

“But if the thief can sense this thing, then why –”

“Because,” Gandalf said tiredly, “he has already sensed this ‘thing,’ as you call it. So to put it in mithril now means –”

“That he’d stop sensing it, which might make him wonder why it’s hidden now when it wasn’t before.”

Gandalf regarded me in resignation. “You really are quite bright for such a rascal, Kíli. I have told you quite enough to put your life in far more danger than it could have been. I suggest you be content with what you have learned and ask no more. And keep what you have learned to yourself, or I shall turn you into a toad. Assuming we both live through this.”

I hunched down in my chair under the wizard’s stern eyes. “Yes, sir. But...”

Gandalf glared at me. “What is it, now?”

“Please put it in some kind of box, at least, so it doesn’t snag on anything or knock the gems about. Those things do need normal protection, if not magical protection. And the thief might be suspicious if it’s just lying around loose, won’t he?”

Gandalf pulled a box out of his robes. It was a beautiful thing of carved fruitwood, with a tall tree inlaid in yellow gold on the top, and a fine moss green velvet lining within.

“Oh and oh, that’s perfect. It’s a beautiful piece, that is. Is that from the king?”

“No.” Gandalf’s tone might be soft, but the look he shot me was anything but. He took the cloth I’d draped over the unfinished diadem, used it to pick up the finished piece, and set it carefully in the box. “This belongs to Lord Elrond. It usually holds his diadem. Now, I shall take my leave before you find anything else to ask.”

When he was out of earshot, I let out a long, slow breath, and wrung a hand over my face. Gandalf’s magic ring, Lord Elrond’s royal box, and a deceptive diadem of dreamflowers... I hoped the combination didn’t represent the first step towards a terrible debacle.

 

* * *

 

When Gandalf set off for Kíli’s worktable, the eyes of every Elf in the _Glawar-galad_ followed him. We anticipated that Kíli would complete the diadem this morning, and when he did, the wizard would cast its glamour upon it, and our bait would be ready to tempt the thief to strike again.

I knew nothing of wizards, and would have liked to watch Gandalf cast the glamour. Would it have involved the mixing of potions, or the muttering of incantations? The first was unlikely, I realized, for when Gandalf took himself off, he took nothing but his staff with him. So perhaps there would be only the murmuring of incantations, then. Or perhaps he had only to lay his staff upon the diadem, and the glamour was instantly conferred.

The look that Gandalf exchanged with Lord Elrond before he headed for Kíli’s worktable was disquietingly grim. Perhaps I didn’t want to see the glamour conferred, after all.

Kíli had told me that he had only the gems to set this morn. He was a precise craftsman, so I expected that this step would still take some time. So the Orc Spawn decided to pass the time with a walk through the garden, away from Kíli’s worktable. I put Míriel in her basket on my back, and Legolas came with us, and we wandered slowly about, enjoying the restored greenery and bright flowers, marveling at the bronze mirrors that brought the light into the place. Legolas told us a little about how Dwarves had made the original mirrors long ago, before relations had soured between our folk and Kíli’s. This was so long ago that none of the mirrors were the originals; enough contact remained with the Dwarves to allow King Thranduil to hire Dwarvish craftsmen to replaced them as needed. But eventually, the _Glawar-galad_ had fallen into neglect. Dirt had obscured some mirrors, and others had fallen awry. When the light had died to a meager fraction of its original brightness, the plants had failed or retrenched. Then Kíli had fallen into the cavern. He’d spent a month imprisoned here before anyone had found him, and he’d busied himself restoring the light. Even without proper tools, he’d realigned all of the mirrors, and polished them with sand from the pool bed, and the remaining plants had rewarded him with lush regrowth. His efforts had produced such beautiful results that folk had returned to the _Glawar-galad_ to restore the beds, regravel the paths, and clear away the dead branches. Stone benches were now clean of moss, the porches fronting the chambers stood again to overlook the flowers, and the wind chimes hung again from the trees to whisper subtle, barely heard tunes.

Wizards had their magic, but so did a garden. This one was full of that humbler but no less wonderful magic – bright as well as subtle colors, a thousand shades of green, the smell of water perfumed with flowers, the whisper of slight breezes and falling water, and the touch of gracefully draping leaves or soft grasses or mossy rocks by the waterfall’s pool. All it lacked was the bright sparkle of a dark Dwarf’s warm brown eyes. I would be glad when Kíli could be with me to enjoy this grand garden.

My garden in Imladris wasn’t nearly so grand, but I missed it, even while enjoying the delight around me. I would be even gladder when Kíli, Míriel, and I were home again.

 

* * *

 

I roused myself out of my unease to clean up my worktable. My teachers had drilled me to keep my tools and worktable neat, so I automatically set about sorting the remnants of the gold I’d used, the copper, the silver, the gems –

“The diadem is finished, then?”

King Thranduil. Straightening, I looked over my shoulder to see the king standing some twenty feet from me. He looked very tall and razor thin in his icy grey tunic and darker grey leggings and boots. His head was bare of a crown, but he didn’t need it to look regal in a cold, predatory way. I remembered what Beorn had told me, and nodded.

“It is. I thank you for providing the materials and the tools. They were both excellent, and eased my work a great deal.” I took up the box containing the remaining gems. “Here, you’ll want to take these. They’re much too fine to risk getting lost.”

“And they are...?” he asked with an arch of those perfect dark eyebrows as he came forward.

I put the box in his outstretched hand. “The remaining gems. Seven white adamants and ten rose rubies. You provided twenty of each. Each one of them was a beauty.”

He took the box, smiling faintly at my praise. “And what drove you to choose one over another?”

“The needs of the piece, mostly. I chose adamants for the front that were a bit larger than those on the side, for example. The rose rubies were all so close in color that I didn’t have to puzzle about that, but there were two exceptionally nice ones that I put on the sides nearest the adamants, just because that made all of the gems look better.”

“And the ones that remain, what of them? They did not tempt you?”

Tempt me to what – theft? I remembered what Beorn said and kept my temper. I grinned at the king without malice. “The piece would’ve been overdone if I’d put in any more, and wouldn’t have matched the necklace. The ones I didn’t use are still beautiful gems, and will grace whatever other piece you choose to put them in.”

“They are not your preference, then?”

I shrugged. “I can’t eat them, and I don’t wear them, so my concern is never whether I prefer one gem over another. It’s whether a gem suits the piece at hand, and usually the client has a preference, anyway. If you were asking about what I’d choose to make a piece to please my personal aesthetics, I’m not overly fond of adamants. They have their admirers, you among them, and they are beautiful, but they’re too cold for me. I like the warm rose rubies better. Good ones are rare, and these are the finest I’ve seen, so they’re rarer still, so have a care with them. One piece I made had blue feldspar in it, which many don’t consider a precious stone at all. I inlaid a spiral of silver in it for my mother. She liked it enough to wear it often, so that piece holds more worth to me than many with fancier gems.”

King Thranduil cocked his head and gave me an almost reptilian stare. “A Dwarf who is not greedy for jewels?”

I studied the king, wondering how much I could get away with. “An Elf who isn’t interested in anyone but himself?”

King Thranduil looked startled, but I held his eyes until he bridled. I shrugged again. “We can sling tired, old assumptions about each other’s folk all afternoon, if you want, but it’d only irritate both of us, and that serves no purpose. So if there’s something else you’d like to talk about, have at.”

I gestured at one of the chairs, and waited for the king to sit down – though that took a long moment. I found a clean glass, poured it full of water, set it by the king’s elbow, and refilled my own glass. I took the chair I’d used at the workbench, slumped comfortably, and waited.

“This treaty you seek.”

I nodded.

“You have made treaty with Lord Elrond for your folk to travel there so that they may rest and regroup before crossing the Misty Mountains east. You have made treaty with the Beornings to pass south of their lands. You seek treaty with me so that your folk will pass through Mirkwood and then travel north to Erebor.”

I nodded again, sipping my water. “That’s it in a thimble.”

“Why ask my leave? Isn’t the habit of your folk to do as they please?”

I arched an eyebrow at the king. “Isn’t it much more polite to do it this way? Or would you prefer to have Dwarves all over your kingdom, willy nilly? If it were my kingdom about to be inundated, I’d be glad of the politeness.”

“I did not sense from your uncle the least ounce of politeness.”

I nodded. “He could be a right bastard at times. I’m sure that happens to Elves, too.”

“So you made treaty with Lord Elrond and the Beornings to bring your folk right to my door, expecting that I would allow your passage.”

I sipped again and thought of Beorn. “Lord Elrond negotiated so that we have a fair treaty that benefits both our folk. That treaty requires the émigrés to pause long enough in Imladris for a bit of education delivered by Kíli the Dwarf about how to get along with Men and Elves, which includes some head knocking when needed, but I’ll see to it that the Dwarves arrive in Erebor with a better history than what they might have acquired elsewhere, and better manners.

“Beorn saw the benefit of making treaty to keep the inflow of Dwarves out of his pelt as much as possible, and we have provisions to address Dwarves who choose to be less, shall we say, direct in their path to the south of Beorn’s land. The Old Forest Road is two hundred miles south of here, give or take a few miles, and that’ll be space enough to keep most Dwarves from pushing north to irritate your folk. My folk are willing to do most of the work on the road itself so that it speeds the journey, if you can offer guides during the work. How does that sound to you?”

“These guides you seek. What purpose would they serve?”

“First, to keep us on the path while we work on it. As you know, the forest is a dangerous and confusing place, and the knowledge and keen eyes of your folk will help us stay out of trouble. Second, the road is marked with stone, and there will likely be places where the stone is missing. The guides can lead us to sources of replacement stone and offer insight as to the quarrying of it, if that’s needed.”

So it went for some time, the king asking me all sorts of questions, sometimes subtly condescending, and sometimes not so subtly – Lord Elrond would never have evinced either. I kept Beorn foremost in my mind, hoping that he’d been right that the level of irritation reflected how close King Thranduil was to coming around, for I was certainly irritated. If the king had been a Dwarf, I would have kicked his chair out from under him, cursed him roundly, and shown him where to put his snottiness. But I kept calm and didn’t deign to be properly subservient. It seemed to nettle him that he didn’t nettle me, which made me observe our differences in rank even less than I already did. I was tired and hungry, and my temper wouldn’t hold forever, so it was time to try more direct means to move this along faster than the king’s petty digging had so far.

“Now. I’ve answered all of your questions, some of them more than once.” I drained my glass, put it down, and met King Thranduil’s eyes straight on. “So you’re still looking for something from me that you haven’t heard yet. What might it be?”

The king narrowed steely eyes on me. It was a formidable stare, reminding me of the snake I sometimes thought him to be. “You are a very direct Dwarf.”

I grinned. “Most of us are. We appreciate others to be as direct.”

“Just so. Then tell me, Kíli the direct, why are you so intent on negotiating so favorably with the folk who you consider to have betrayed you at Erebor when the dragon came?”

“Good, we’re down to it, now. You brought one-of-a-kind adamants to the Dwarves of Erebor to have them set in a necklace, but the Dwarves stole the gems, and left you with nothing. The theft rankled until Smaug came, when you didn’t face the dragon on behalf of the Dwarves. I grant you, confronting a dragon of Smaug’s intensity is suicidal, so likely the Dwarves would have understood that if you’d sheltered the refugees. But the Dwarves’ theft cost them your mercy, and doomed them to wander. Years went by, Smaug was killed, and you got your gems back at long last. You stood with the Dwarves and the Men of Esgaroth to defeat the Orcs and Goblins. Your folk bore the greatest risk in that fight in terms of lives at stake, and you held, and the Dwarves know it. So Elves and Dwarves are finally in a position to start anew as allies, and so they do. Why would either folk want to jeopardize that? If we make the emigration of the Blue Mountain Dwarves as painless as possible for both of us, it strengthens the good will and bonds of alliance between us.”

“So you are endowed with an overabundance of good will for those outside your own folk.”

I laughed, and not quietly. _Thrak-u skator,_ was the king really so thick? “I might be, but don’t tell me you don’t understand the more personal reason I have for wanting to do well by your kingdom. I married an Elf from the Woodland Realm, didn’t I?”

The king’s eyes grew cold. “You cost that Elf her place here.”

Oh, Valar, how hard was it for me not to throttle this snotty king, but instead merely raise my eyebrow and look skeptical? “I thought you lifted her banishment. Did you banish her again?”

“I lifted it. If you had not cost her her banishment in the first place, she would not have left here, and she would not have married you.”

“We were bonded before either of us left here, and it was you who did the banishing regardless of what either Tauriel or I did, but none of that’s material to this discussion. What is, is that I treasure Tauriel and our daughter, and honor both of them by doing what I can to promote and preserve good relations between our folk.”

“You are mortal. She is not.”

“Half right.”

King Thranduil’s eyes snapped to mine. “In what way?”

“Tauriel is immortal, true.”

“You are not.”

“That’s not necessarily true.”

“You speak in lies – ”

“The likelihood is that my father is a Teleri Elf, so I may not be mortal at all. Either way, the Valar know there are many ways for anyone to die, immortal or not, so the only thing immortality offers me is the hope that I will spend many more years with Tauriel than I expected. Either way, I’ll try to live as best I can, with respect for both Dwarves and Elves, for all the years the Valar give me, just as we all should do.

“Now. I’ve explained everything you’ve asked me, every way you’ve asked me. I’ve told you what motivates me. I don’t think that you’ve spent the last three days while I smithed twiddling your thumbs, so you’ve likely pumped Lord Elrond and Gandalf about me and my folk and my motivation. So either you believe what you’ve heard from all of us, or you don’t. Either you accept my offer of treaty as valid, or you don’t. Either way, the Blue Mountain Dwarves are emigrating, and it’s your choice as to how obnoxious they make themselves to the Woodland Realm. If it were I, I’d rather have a voice in how things go, and make strong ties with my neighbors so that all our folk remain secure. But I’m not you.”

King Thranduil didn’t like having a mortal, an inferior, a whatever unsuitable creature he deemed me, speak to him in that way. He stilled, and when his icy gaze bored into me, I felt like a fly under the concentrated stare of a mantis. But I thought about Beorn, about Tauriel and Míriel, about Lord Elrond, and returned his stare with as thoughtful a gaze as I could muster. I didn’t drop it as I rose from my chair.

“I’ll bring you the leftover gold when I’ve collected it,” I said. “I’ll let your son know I’m through with the tools, too, and help him pack them if he’d like.”

Surprisingly, the king’s probing glare softened, and he nodded with his usual otherworldly grace. He rose. “I thank you for that courtesy.”

He retreated, but his step was thoughtful. I hoped that was better than stamping off in a snit. That depended, I supposed, on whether he tended to contemplate assassination of Dwarves calmly, or in a rage.

Turning back to the table, I finished my tidying, and used a few of the crucible vessels to hold the leftover gold. I had to squint to get the last tiny flakes of gold up...

Flakes... small, small flakes of gold... I thought about them until I realized that once again the sunlight had dimmed, and the eve was upon me.

I sighed. I’d missed luncheon again, and the king had kept me talking all afternoon. Another day had raced past without leaving me any time to spend with Tauriel and our bairn.

Some parts of being an ambassador stank.

 

* * *

 

_Seething, Thranduil regarded the Dwarf lounging in the chair opposite him and considered whether he wanted to throttle him with his hands, or avoid touching such an arrogant, flippant creature with his hands and simply stab him –_

_What had Legolas had said about Tauriel?_

_“She is smart, and true, and a source of good counsel that I valued because it was honest rather than merely words I wanted to hear.”_

_This Dwarf – half Dwarf? – had fed him blunt words to summarize centuries of hatred between Elves and Dwarves so succinctly that even he could see the pettiness on both sides. This mortal – or not? – had also seen the wisdom of putting aside ancient pettiness to forge something better, to secure both their people. As much as Thranduil looked askance at the inferior races, this example of them had shown a sharper eye for the future than he had._

_“... good counsel that... was honest rather than... words I wanted to hear...”_

_If anyone had presumed to speak to him the way he himself had spoken to the Dwarf – half Dwarf? – he would not have been so forbearing in his replies._

_Once again, Thranduil had reason for thought._

 

* * *

 

When Kíli reappeared just before supper, he looked so tired that I asked Rhiannel to watch Míriel for a moment and hurried to his side.

“You look exhausted, _a’maelamin_ ,” I offered softly. “Would you like some wine, or something to eat before supper? Or just the nap that you look like you need so desperately?”

He took my hand. “Gandalf wrung me out in the morn, and the king picked over the scattered leavings in the afternoon. And I’ve spent another day away from you and Míriel, when I’d hoped to have the afternoon with you. I’m sorry, Tauriel.”

He sounded so disappointed that I steered us away from the others as they gathered around the table in anticipation of supper. We walked down one of the paths towards the pond and waterfall until we were out of earshot of our company. We found a bench overlooking a bed of bright purple asters with the pond just beyond, and sat down.

“Our time is not our own, _a’maelamin_. That is not your fault. You are the only one who could craft the diadem. You are the only one who is the ambassador for your folk. I understand that.”

He smiled up at me, but it was a wistful expression. “I understand that, too. It’s just that... I really thought I’d be done at luncheon, and then you and I could spend the afternoon together. Look for rare flowers as we did two years ago. See if my runes to you are still here. Find the fissure where we scrambled out of here. And play with Míriel. I’ve missed her, too.”

“But Gandalf had his wizardry to do. What did he do? Did you see him do it?”

Kíli held up his hands. “I can’t say anything, for fear of being turned into a toad. But... no, I can’t say that, either. Or that. _Skator_ , Tauriel, I can’t say anything. Other than how happy I am just to be who and what I am. Being a wizard or a high lord... or even a Woodland king, if I’m honest, are more perilous than you can imagine.”

Kíli’s eyes grew dark, but he mustered a smile. He took my hand again, and looked down at it as he squeezed it gently. “I love you very much, _amrâlimê_. Very much.”

I leaned close to brush a kiss on his cheek. “And I you. Do not worry. We will survive this busy time, and find a few moments to ourselves soon enough.”

He sighed, nodding.

“You said that King Thranduil spent the afternoon with you?”

He nodded again, but now his expression was exasperated, and he snorted. “ _Dahaut_ , yes. He was insufferable, but I’m still here, though if looks were knives, I’d be missing several important bits. The only thing that saved me was to keep thinking about what Beorn told me.”

“The more insufferable he got, the closer he was to thinking,” I recalled.

Kíli nodded. “And he was. Insufferable, I mean. He wanted to talk about the treaty. I laid out the benefits to both sides, as plainly as I could. He just doesn’t trust a Dwarf; that’s what it came down to. I reminded him of whom and what I married, so then he got huffy about mortal versus immortal. So I threw scrap iron in his gristmill works. You should have seen his face when I told him my father was a Teleri.”

His snicker was entirely too gleeful for an ambassador, and I grinned in kind. “Did it help to tell him that?”

“The Valar know, but I don’t. He didn’t kill me, so that’s something. In fact, now that I think about it, he did look confused. Maybe because he doesn’t know whether he’s talking to an exalted immortal or not.”

“I know I am talking to my very tired husband, who could do with a large supper and a small babe to remind him of lighter subjects. Let’s wash our hands in the pool, and then find our supper.”

His smile was grateful. “That’s just what I’d like. And I’m sorry about this afternoon.”

“It was none of your doing, Kíli. We will have our moments soon.”

As we walked down to the pool together, I decided that I would make sure we had our moment before we left the Woodland Realm, even if I had to kidnap both my husband and my babe to make it so.

 

* * *

 

After a hearty supper, I felt better. I was beside Tauriel again, and Míriel crawled into my lap to steal my honey cake with a gleeful chortle. Then I took a bite of it from her hand, which she did not like, but with everyone laughing so much, she soon smiled again. We had our splash in the pool to get clean, and music around the fire, and I was comfortably sleepy. Lord Elrond congratulated me on finishing the diadem, and on the Orc Spawn and Legolas for refining their play that would accompany the diadem, and the king for hosting us so well. As I expected, we’d leave the _Glawar-galad_ in the morning, as soon as we awoke. I sighed in resignation, but Tauriel was right about our time not being our own. I barely listened to the king and Lord Elrond discussing the buffet where we’d put our plan into effect, noting only that it would be tomorrow night in the main cavern. The rest of the day would be taken up in touring various parts of the cavern, which would be interesting in its own way. On the following days, we’d set to formal negotiations, which I hoped would go easier than this afternoon had because Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and my advisors would be with me to divert some of the pressure from me. Maybe they’d also help me reach a better conclusion than I had this afternoon, which was merely to divert some pointed snubs with courtesy the king didn’t deserve.

Maybe I’d feel more sanguine about it all tomorrow, after a good sleep. And maybe I’d feel better once I figured out how to sneak back into the _Glawar-galad_ with Tauriel and Míriel in tow.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. The action is heating up as the Orc Spawn leave the Glawar-galad behind and set their plan in motion. Finlor, however, has his own plan, and it begins with defying King Thranduil in a most passive-aggressive way. If he can seed the local gossip with innuendo and misgiving along the way, all the better. Can our intrepid band flush him from the shadowy world of italic text and into the main story?
> 
> Meanwhile, Giriel puts her impression of a flitter-wit up against the real thing.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the low comedy as well as the high drama.

_Finlor made a point of being out and about early the next morning, no matter how sore his wounded side was. As he expected, the corridors and public rooms were abuzz, but not about his daring of last night. He heard no word of that, which brought a smug smile to the alchemist’s lips. Of course he heard no word of how an unseen, audacious power had embarrassed the king in front of the Imladris lord, for the king would hardly trumpet word of his ineptitude. Rather, what he heard was annoying enough to banish his smile – it was a general summons for all alchemists in the realm to make an appearance before the king by noon today. Now that was unexpected. He’d left no sign of his passage other than to snatch the necklace, but something had given the king reason to seek out those of Finlor’s profession._

_That presented no problem. He would simply not go._

_He returned to his rooms for an hour or so, dressed carefully in the formal robes he would have worn to an audience with the king, then went back out among the denizens of the cavern. They were still talking about the summons. A few alchemists were already there to talk about making their report. He listened carefully to one or two without seeming to, and then created a puzzled look for himself as he walked among the throng._

_“Have you heard about the summons?” one of the Elf maids asked._

_“I have. Of course, I hastened to make my appearance as quickly as I could,” Finlor answered with false concern._

_“What did the king want to know?”_

_“It was not clear,” Finlor smiled disarmingly and shrugged. “His questions rambled among several trivial subjects. He did ask about my whereabouts late last night, for some reason. Of course, I told him I took my usual walk to view the stars after leaving the feast, and then retired to my rooms, which did not seem to be of interest to him.”_

_“I heard there was a disturbance in the guard last night,” another Elf chimed in._

_“Was there?” Finlor frowned to simulate concern. “I have heard nothing of that. What was the disturbance about?”_

_“No one knows,” a third one replied. “Perhaps there was something untoward about the wine shipment. Yesterday was the day for the regular shipment to arrive.”_

_Finlor pretended shock. “Was there trouble with the guard about wine again?”_

_“Again? You mean this wasn’t the first time?” the maid gasped. “How in Middle Earth can we be safe if the guard spends its duty drinking wine rather than guarding?”_

_“That is a fair question,” Finlor agreed, and let the conversation swirl until he could walk away without suspicion._

_He let another knot of Elves detain him long enough for him to spin his myth again, and then returned to his rooms well satisfied._

 

* * *

 

Despite his weariness, Kíli didn’t retire to sleep, but stayed with Míriel and me to splash a long time in the water, play his fiddle for the eve’s music, and share in the general conversation that preceded the eve’s rest. He was so glad to be with our daughter again that he cuddled her closely in his arms for as long as she’d allow it. When she wanted to get down and play with her auntie and uncles, he sat beside me with his arm about my waist, stroking my back.

Kíli’s attentions had an intensity to them that was more than I could attribute to how hard he’d worked over the past three days. The last time he’d seemed to drink in sight and sound of his family so deeply had been after he’d spent thirty-six days as the captive of Gundebad Orcs. The brutality of his imprisonment had made him regard every move Míriel and I made with wonder for several days, as if he were determined not to forget a moment of them. While conversation with King Thranduil was always intense, I doubted that that was responsible for Kíli’s regard. It must, then, have been the witnessing of Gandalf’s magic.

I was doubly convinced of that when Lord Elrond announced that we would return to the main part of the cavern in the morning. If we stayed another day, only a few more minutes would pass in the main part of the cavern, which didn’t seem to be much to sacrifice given how hard Kíli had worked. There must be a reason for speeding our return to the main cavern.

I asked Kíli about it when we finally retired for the night. I sat at the corner of the sleeping pad, and he stood behind me, combing my hair. It was something we both enjoyed, to tend the other before we lay down to rest. I savored the touch of his hands as he gathered my hair back over my shoulders, gently unwound my braids, and drew my comb carefully through to smooth it.

“This thief,” Kíli finally answered softly as he combed, “is very dangerous, much more than any of us thought, except for Lord Elrond and Gandalf. So what we’re about to do to catch him will be very dangerous, too.”

“You say nothing of King Thranduil. Does he know how dangerous this is?”

Again, Kíli mulled my question for several seconds. “I think he understands about the thief, yes. But about what Gandalf and Lord Elrond are up to, I’d wager he doesn’t.”

“And what does this have to do with spending a few more moments in the _Glawar-galad_ or not have to do with the level of danger?”

Kíli sat beside me, took my hands, and looked into my eyes. His gaze was worried. “I can’t say what or how, but believe me when I say that Gandalf and Lord Elrond risk a lot to bring this thief to ground. So much that I think neither of them wants to drag that out. Spending another full day here is more than they want to risk. Another hour or so in the rest of the cavern is less time to endure that risk.”

I gulped. “I do not like going into a fight knowing so little. The Orc Spawn know even less.”

Kíli nodded. “That weighs on me, too. I might not be able to say anything about what I saw this morning, but I can still tell the Orc Spawn tomorrow to stay sharp. They won’t ask about what I can’t tell them, but they’ll appreciate the word.”

“I thought of something else to tell them, too.” At Kíli’s look of inquiry, I said, “We know this thief has the means to be invisible. Once we leave the _Glawar-galad_ , we will not know whether he observes us or not, so we will have to act as if he does, until we run him to ground.”

Unaccountably, Kíli’s eyes went wide, and he stifled a giggle.

“Why do you laugh? I do not find it funny at all to imagine that a dangerous thief watches my every move,” I said, mystified.

“Oh and oh, I don’t, either,” he hastened to assure me. “But staying in character means that you and Giriel will have to act like flitter-wits maybe for days.”

“We will not. We decided between us that we would remain quiet most of the time –”

“That’ll be damned near impossible for Giriel,” Kíli snickered.

“– and act the flitter-wits only under the influence of wine at supper,” I plowed forward, despite Kíli’s interruption. “Otherwise, it would be an impossible task for both of us, Giriel because she is as irrepressible as you are, and me because I am not nearly as inventive as Giriel is, and would run out of inanities long before she would.”

“She’s amazing,” Kíli said admiringly. “As down to earth an Elf as there is anywhere, a fierce and skilled guardsman, the first one to run naked into a pool or headlong into the dance, and yet royalty atop it all. And beautiful.”

“She is all those things. She is also a staunch sister and friend. I am glad to know her.”

Kíli’s gaze slid to meet mine. “So am I. But she’s not the maid I appreciate most of all, not by halves. As amazing as our Giriel is, she isn’t audacious enough to bond with a Dwarf, or make a bairn with him, or stand beside him no matter what trouble he gets into.”

“We both seem well able to get into trouble,” I admitted with a smile.

Kíli’s smile dimmed a little as he thought about what tomorrow might bring, but he stroked my cheek gently. “There’s nothing I like better than to get in trouble with you, my sweet _amrâlimê_.”

I would not let Kíli’s worry keep hold of him, so I took his hand, kissed it, then kissed his lips. He responded in kind, savoring the caress as much as I. When he was fully entranced, I unfastened his tunic, drawing him to smile through our kiss. When I stroked his chest, his breath caught in anticipation. Grinning, I pressed him down onto the sleeping pad and straddled him. When I nibbled his ear, caressing the ring in it, he sighed and stroked my back.

“Valar, Tauriel, what did I do to merit such fire from you? Tell me quick, so I can do more of it.”

I bit his bottom lip. “Consider it a heartfelt apology on my part in advance, for tomorrow I will have to act the fool who embarrasses you in public.”

He snickered as he insinuated his fingers past the lacings of my tunic and underthings. “Apologize all you like, maid. It’s already the best apology I’ve ever gotten in my life, and you’ve just started. At least, I hope you’ve just started.”

I had. By the time I had apologized fully, Kíli was well exhausted, and drifted to sleep with a smile. I stroked the hair out of his eyes, caressing the _amrâlimê_ and _a’maelamin_ braids that revealed our devotion to one another, then the end of the double twist he wore down his back that was the mark of our bond and marriage. What a life we had had together so far, and what promise we had for the years to come!

If a certain thief thought to jeopardize that promise, I would make sure he regretted it.

 

* * *

 

The morn arrived with the promise of delight as well as danger. Tauriel and I conjured the former at some length, despite our exertions of last night; the latter would come soon enough, once we left the _Glawar-galad_. Before then, we tended to each other, and to Míriel, who was happy to roll around with us and her toys on the sleeping pad after she’d had her breakfast. We took our time to dress and pack our baggage, but eventually, we couldn’t put off leaving our chamber any longer. Regretfully, we came out onto the porch that overlooked our courtyard. A light breakfast was already on the table in the center of the courtyard, and so we carried Míriel down to join Lindir, Teth, Giriel, and Rhiannel. We exchanged murmurs of good morn, and I pounced on a platter of spiced buns to accompany my tea. Míriel thought they were just as delicious as I did, which provoked a fair of laughs from her auntie and uncles.

“Before we leave for the main cavern,” I murmured, when the laughter died, “and before the king, prince, lord, and wizard descend upon us...”

The Orc Spawn leaned in, their eyes intent on me as I helped Míriel to a sip of my tea.

“I can’t say much. But it’s only fair that you know what we’re about to do is a lot more important than we think, and it’s liable to be dangerous. So we go into this just as we do every time we head out on patrol.”

“Eyes open, blades to hand, and dead serious,” Giriel, of course, said.

“ _Kurvanog_ right,” I nodded.

“Do the king and the prince know what’s going on?” Rhiannel asked softly.

“They do about the thief, but I don’t think they do about whatever Gandalf and Lord Elrond are about. I don’t know that, either, except that this thief is a lot more dangerous than we thought.”

“There must be some reason why Lord Elrond and Gandalf haven’t told them,” Lindir whispered.

“I think it’s because they want to keep this magic business as secret as possible, so word doesn’t get out to the dark lord.”

That provoked hums of understanding as well as concern.

“We can trust that Lord Elrond knows what he is about,” Lindir said firmly, and we all nodded agreement. “And Mithrandir.”

Our oldest Orc Spawn, Tethrandil, remained serene. “We’ll stay sharp,” he said with quiet confidence, and we all nodded agreement again.

“We’ll watch out for Lord Elrond and Gandalf, as well as ourselves,” Tauriel said, which was met with more hums of agreement.

“Tauriel reminded me last night that our thief can turn himself invisible, so we’ll have to act like he’s at our shoulders every moment until we run him down,” I said. “The Orc Spawn won’t be the ones who give him any reason not to believe everything we want him to.”

I held out my hand, and my friends did likewise to join our hands. “ _Comys thoyn_ , Orc Spawn.”

“ _Comys thoyn_ ,” was the instant response.

We finished our breakfast before king, prince, high lord, or wizard appeared. When they did, the Orc Spawn were quietly professional, easily playing with Míriel at the same time we were intent on the matters at hand. Once everyone had eaten, we collected our baggage and fell in behind King Thranduil and Lord Elrond to leave the _Glawar-galad_ behind. A few of our guardsmen waited for us at the door to take our baggage and escort us back to our chambers in the main cavern. We took our leave of the king and prince outside those chambers, and I was pleased at the warm words that passed between Legolas and the Orc Spawn. Even the king was gracious, smiling openly as he bid us a short farewell. It was still very early in the morn in the main cavern – perhaps less than two hours had passed here since we’d entered the _Glawar-galad_ – so we repaired to our rooms to wait for dawn. When it did, we’d resume our planned schedule of another breakfast, with a tour of some part of the cavern to follow before luncheon, while the king and Legolas presided over the interviews with the alchemists. All of us would keep close watch for anyone with very dark hair and eyes.

Once we were back in our chamber in the main cavern, I took the chance to doze for an hour or so, because I expected the day to be long and strenuous, if not physically so, and I was the only one but for Gandalf who needed sleep. Tauriel took the time to give Míriel a proper bath in the bathing chamber, where I joined them for a good soak after my nap. All three of us looked silly, given that Tauriel and I had tied up our hair like Míriel’s topknot in an effort to keep our hair dry. As thick as mine was, it took forever to dry in the cool cavern, and it was already hard enough to appear as dignified as an Elf when I was a foot shorter than they were. Once I’d scrubbed thoroughly, I took Míriel out to crawl on the silken carpet while Tauriel finished her wash. It took only a few trips back and forth across the carpet before Míriel had mussed the pile into a path showing where she’d traversed. I thought about that while Míriel busily discovered which chairs and settees offered her the best chance to hide. I was still thinking about it when Tauriel came into the room.

“What are you thinking about so seriously?” my _amrâlimê_ asked me, wrapping her robe around her. “I hope Míriel isn’t as bare as you are. I do not want to scrub the carpet because she does not have her diaper on. And where is she?”

I pointed to the far settee. On cue, Míriel pulled herself up to stand on the far side of the settee, grinning proudly at her accomplishment. “Mami! Mami!”

Tauriel put her arms akimbo and pretended to be surprised, but her smile was wide. “Are you playing hide and seek with your Taad? That is a good spot to hide, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not,” I considered the rug. “All you have to do is look at the carpet to know where she is.”

Tauriel sent me a reproving look. “Of course, Kíli. But she doesn’t know that yet. She’s still a babe.”

I frowned, then my expression cleared. “Oh and oh, that’s not what I meant. I mean, look at the carpet. It’s obvious where Míriel’s been, yes?”

Tauriel picked up our bairn, nuzzled her, and kneeled next to me to arrange Míriel’s diaper. “Very. What about that intrigues you?”

“Are the carpets in all our rooms like this one? This thick, I mean?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. We can look, if we must, but why do we need to?”

“Let’s hope the salon rug is as thick as this one.” I gave her a serious look. “If it is, when you and Giriel do your drunken retreat, do it there. We’ll rake the carpet smooth on our way out to the buffet, and when you come back, if the thief follows you, you’ll –”

“See his footprints!” Tauriel finished, her eyes alight. She jumped up to pace backwards to the door and back so she could see the mark of her footprints in the carpet’s pile. She met my gaze with a wide grin. “That’s brilliant!”

I flushed at Tauriel’s praise as I held Míriel on her feet to watch. “At least it’ll give you a way to see whether you’ve got company or not.”

“I’ll check the salon rug as soon as I dress, and tell Giriel about it, too. There, Míriel. The carpet is safe for you to roll upon while your Maamr and Taad dress.”

“Braids first for me,” I exhaled, stretching. “Field braids, I think.”

I meant the sturdy plaits I favored when I rode patrol in Imladris, which kept my hair securely out of my eyes no matter how strenuous the fight. Tauriel kneeled beside me to help; when she’d finished the twisted plait that traced down my spine, she added the plain diadem that Giriel had loaned me, adjusting it until she was satisfied that it was straight. Then we dressed Tauriel’s hair in the field braids she favored. After such careful work, it took little time to don our clothes, and then Míriel’s. We both slid knives into their hidden sheaths, and Tauriel had a knotted garrote that she slipped inside her tunic. We were ready.

We came out into the salon to find most of the Orc Spawn ready. Giriel was the last one to arrive. She gave Tauriel and me a strange look to find us rubbing the carpet pile, but when we explained why, all the Orc Spawn were quick to grasp how we planned to use it. Lindir came in from Lord Elrond’s suite, so we apprised him about the carpet, too, and once we’d raked out the sign of our footsteps from our rug, he led us to Lord Elrond and Gandalf. We prepared his rug in the same fashion, then we were ready to begin the day’s performance.

I took Míriel in my arms. After a deep breath, we met Ondine outside our suites, and set out for breakfast.

 

* * *

 

I was grateful that our official breakfast was private. The only Elves outside of our company in the small dining chamber were the servers who tended the dishes and Ondine, so we didn’t have to face King Thranduil’s court yet. Still, all of us remembered that only a handful of hours had passed in the main cavern since our arrival to the Woodland Realm, and made no mention of our time in the _Glawar-galad_. Ondine sat with us, describing the plan for our day, beginning with a tour of the main cavern’s most beautiful sights, of which there were many, then luncheon with the king and prince, then private conversation with the king that were the prelude to the actual treaty negotiations, then the buffet dinner we expected. After our breakfast, we set out with Ondine to shepherd us.

I would have rather lurked near the Antlered Throne, watching alchemists parade before the king. Two years ago, that would have been my duty, but no longer. The Orc Spawn felt the same way, but none of them voiced that opinion as they played the impressed tourists. At least the sights within the cavern were sufficiently impressive that the expressions of wonder from my comrades were genuine.

It was a strange feeling to see these underground vistas again, but the surreal feeling was due to more than merely being away for two years. For the first time, I viewed the stunning cascades of limestone flowstone as an outsider, rather than as a denizen. The water-slicked curtains of colored rock that seemed to move in a subtle breeze when the amber lamps flickered... the rays of the sun that entered from portals high above in the cavern ceiling and plunged hundreds of feet down to cleave the half light as sharply as a knife... the soft, murmuring echoes of the Forest River flowing far below us... these sensations were different now, because they were no longer the sounds and sights of my home. The whispers of falling water that I heard in my home were now from the Bruinen, and the sunlight was a brighter light gleaming off the white stone structures of Imladris. Returning to the Woodland Realm did make me homesick, but for my home in Imladris, not for my past life within this cavern.

Despite the seriousness of our performance, I still smiled because I knew to a certainty that I had a home, and I knew exactly where it lay.

The tour finally ended, met with many expressions of appreciation and gratitude from Gandalf, Lord Elrond, and the Orc Spawn. It gave us something to talk about during luncheon, which was in the court’s dining hall, and allowed those of the Woodland Realm to mingle with us. We had only to mention the highlights of Ondine’s tour, and those around us filled the conversation with their descriptions and stories.

When King Thranduil entered to share the luncheon with us, the Orc Spawn deployed ourselves as we’d agreed. Kíli stayed in casual proximity to Lord Elrond, and the rest of us kept them in the center of us. Gandalf was not aware of our tactics, but he had his staff with him, and the Orc Spawn had agreed that a wizard had hidden protections that allowed us to focus on our lord and our Dwarvish ambassador. I pointed out the most flagrant examples of the court blossoms, and we observed which drank more than the others. They would be key to our supper masquerade. I maintained most of my usual reserve, but Giriel made it her business to circulate around the room smiling and laughing, pulling me along behind her as if I were reluctant. In truth, Giriel was more fun to watch than was prudent, for it was very hard not to laugh at her, and eventually I stopped trying. One would never know that she shared a bond with Rhiannel, so easily did she flirt with one Elf after another, male as well as female. Her interactions danced so enticingly on the edge of propriety, never venturing over, but lingering there in a most tempting way. I didn’t have to act when I drew her back away from that edge with a cautioning word hidden within laughter, or restraining touch on her arm. As she was supposed to, she greeted my apprehension with a gentle laugh, a shrug to whomever she talked to, and let me guide her to a different part of the room.

Was it any surprise how several of the flitter-wits, Lady Niriellen among them, soon gravitated to our fierce Giriel, who today was only fiercely frivolous? The only surprise was that it took so long for them to swarm. I supposed that the delay quashed our theory that Woodland Realm flitter-wits might be smarter than they let on.

Then my real efforts began. I did not like flitter-wits, had never aspired to be a flitter-wit, and found nothing about flitter-wits to emulate, even their beautiful clothing that was as affected as the wearers were. I preferred Elves and clothing of more subtle elegance. But I soldiered on mightily, comforted in the fact that if I seemed stiff and uninterested now, it would make my supper performance all the better, because it would seem so much more believable once I started to drink. I allowed Giriel to persuade me only to two glasses of wine, not enough to addle me, but I pretended that it made me slightly dizzy. We must have carried on better than I thought, for Kíli ventured near with Míriel, his brow wrinkled.

“You are enjoying yourself, Tauriel?” he asked cautiously.

The maids tittered amongst themselves, Giriel with them. “I’m having a delightful time,” Giriel told me. “I’ve made many new friends. Tauriel, introduce your _a’maelamin_ to our new friends.”

I did so, bridling when some of the maids lingered a little longer than was seemly over Kíli’s hand. My husband did look exotic with his striking coloring, beautiful hair, and elegant dark clothing, and as all the maids were Nandor, they were not much taller than he. Míriel generated as great a curiosity, for she was her usual sprightly self when confronted with so many brightly colored and sparkly toys. When Maid Virilir dangled a huge emerald on a chain in front of Míriel’s eager hands, she reached for it in delight, then cooed in distress when I guided her hand from the bauble.

“No, Míriel, that is not a good toy for you,” I soothed her. “Your doll is a much better toy. Where is her doll, Kíli?”

“Oh, but it’s such a pretty toy, isn’t it, Míriel?” Giriel chirped, dangling one of her own necklaces in front of Míriel. “You are like any little maid, in love with all things that adorn with a gleam and a sparkle.”

Kíli pulled the doll out of his coat pocket and danced it in front of Míriel, but just far enough away that Giriel’s necklace was more attractive. She reached for the bauble again, drawing Giriel to laugh in delight. “See, Tauriel? She loves jewels almost as much as I do! They are the best delight, are they not, little maid? Yes, they are!”

“Tauriel, Míriel’s hungry,” Kíli said softly, with an edge of warning to his voice.

“Then give her some of the cakes,” I tossed off as if discreetly impatient.

“I think she’d rather you feed her.” The maids made faces among themselves as Kíli touched my arm. “Please.”

“But you cannot take _mellon nin_ Tauriel from me now!” Giriel pleaded. “Kíli, we are having the best time!”

“I have to leave soon to meet with the king,” Kíli said, speaking to me rather than to Giriel. “I’d like to make sure that Míriel is well fed before I go. Please.”

“Of course,” I replied evenly, but my gaze was resigned. “Giriel, Niriellen, Amroziela, Blithia, I will see you another time. Perhaps at supper?”

“Of course,” the maids chirped.

“Perhaps I can persuade you to wear some of your jewels then, Tauriel,” Giriel wheedled, toying with her necklace. She turned to the maids. “She has some of the nicest pieces, you wait and see. Perhaps that dia –”

“That’s enough, Giriel,” Kíli said sharply, his eyes narrowed. Then he looked uncomfortable. “Come on, Tauriel. Míriel needs her luncheon. Maids, until later.”

Kíli hustled us off with just enough haste that it looked awkward. He drew us to Rhiannel’s side, handed our daughter to me, and tapped our friend’s shoulder.

“Giriel’s set the bait,” Kíli said lowly to Rhiannel. “It’s time for you to extract her in disgrace.”

Rhiannel mimed an alarmed look in Giriel’s direction before replying. “No one’s seen the Elf I saw,” he breathed, and headed towards Giriel. I scanned the room, finding the Orc Spawn, Gandalf, and Lord Elrond before I let Kíli lead me out. We passed into the small corridor that led to one of the cavern’s main halls, heading back to our suite. One of our guardsmen waiting outside of the dining hall fell in beside Kíli, and we shifted slightly to the left so that we all walked abreast –

The hem of my tunic twitched, as if someone had brushed up against me –

I stopped dead in the corridor, dragging Kíli to a startled halt. If only I didn't have Míriel in my arms - I would have pulled out my garrote to see what fish I could catch with it! “I don’t know what the point of jewelry is,” I said sharply, “if one cannot wear it!”

Kíli’s eyes widened, but I didn’t dare make any sign to him, because I didn’t know if I’d imagined the contact, and if not, where the invisible eavesdropper might be.

“I mean it! I spent six hundred years in this place, as plain as a forest mouse, and now that I’m back as the wife of an ambassador, the least I could do to support you is to look the part. That thing came all the way from Lothlórien to Imladris, and we’ve carried it here, and for what if it cannot be worn?”

“Keep your voice down!” Kíli hissed, his eyes still wide. “You haven’t the first idea what you’re talking about, and it’s for King Thranduil to sort out with Lord Elrond, not you!”

“It’s not as if the king would want to wear it,” I argued. “It’s for a maid! What does he care about it? Trust me, dreamflowers would not suit him.”

“Enough, Tauriel!” Kíli grabbed my arm, and dragged me behind him. “You come with me now, or I’ll think you had something to do with the loss of the first one. Let this one stay safely where it belongs!”

Kíli yanked me after him, and we virtually ran back to our suite with the mystified guardsman. We didn’t enlighten him, but fled into the sitting room of our suite, leaving him outside. We slammed the door behind us and held there, not moving into the room, silent but for the sound of ragged breathing. Míriel quirked her eyebrows at us, but for once both of us stared at something other than her. Both of us watched the carpet.

No mark showed on the carpet. The draperies at the window were still, and there was no sound in our suite. Still, Kíli put his mouth beside my ear.

“Did you see him?”

It was my turn to whisper to Kíli. “I felt something pass me in the corridor outside the dining room. Something I couldn’t see.”

Kíli drew his knife to venture around the edges of the sitting room and into our room. He came out quickly, shaking his head. I had my blade out as well, but sheathed it to put Míriel down to play on the rug. Neither of us spoke as Míriel set out across the rub, burbling happily to herself. In the middle of the floor, she sat down, turned to us, and said, “Troli?”

Kíli got the doll out of his pocket and kneeled down to give to toy to Míriel. He looked up when the door behind me opened, revealing Rhiannel and Giriel almost as breathless as we had been a moment before. Instantly, I held my fingers to my lips.

“He is not here,” Rhiannel said at once.

“How do you know he didn’t follow you?” Kíli asked.

Rhiannel’s lips widened into a knowing smile. “Because, _mellon nin_ , at this very moment, he is beating a hasty retreat from the dining room that takes him away from these chambers.”

“You saw him?” I gasped. "The same one you saw before?"

Rhiannel nodded. “So I did.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Today, our intrepid band debuts a new reality series called "CSI: Woodland Realm." It's the last deep breath before they spring their trap for the thief who stole the necklace.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the last of the maneuvering. Next up, the trap will be sprung!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> miz barathar curp! = my bloody ass (Khazuduhl)  
> kurvanog lulgijakonez = fucking Elf (Black Speech)  
> Taraer = lofty one (Quenya)  
> malkog dath = swear right (lit.), i.e., “you said it” (Black Speech)

I left Míriel and her doll and scrambled to my feet. “Tauriel said she felt someone go by her in the corridor, someone invisible. Then you saw him leaving the dining room.” I looked first at Tauriel, then at Rhiannel and Giriel. “Then he must have heard what we said about the diadem.”

The four of us pieced together what we thought had happened, from the argument that Tauriel and I staged, to the bare, momentary appearance in the dining room of the Elf Rhiannel had seen last night at the feast, and his hasty exit.

“Why would he make himself visible after taking pains to be invisible?” Tauriel asked, but none of us had an answer. “And why would he come into the dining room at all? If he’d heard our tiff, he’d have known we were leaving.”

“I was fortunate to be looking at the door when he came in looking flustered,” Rhiannel mused. “He looked about the room very quickly, then retreated.”

“Legolas saw him, too, if for only a fraction of a second,” Giriel went on. “Enough to know that he wore the deepest of black garments, very beautiful and form fitting, and had dark hair. But he didn’t see his face clearly, as he was turning away.”

“Did anyone hear about the king’s audiences with the alchemists?” Tauriel asked. “Did this Elf appear?”

“As neither the king nor Legolas saw this Elf clearly, they cannot say,” Rhiannel replied. “But from what Legolas said, no one with such dark hair and eyes appeared at all.”

Tauriel tsked. My wife’s eyes had gone cold and predatory, the way I’d first seen them in the forest when her patrol had captured Uncle Thorin’s company two years ago. “Has the guard checked the realm’s shop records to identify the alchemists’ suppliers?”

“I thought the king’s summons was for the alchemists to appear, not their suppliers,” Giriel frowned in puzzlement.

“So it was,” Tauriel nodded grimly, looking every inch the captain of the guard she’d been for so long. “But I would not assume that all appeared in good faith. Suppliers keep records of their customers. The king’s scribes record who appears in the day’s audience and any pertinent information about each discussion. If I were still captain of the guard, I would compare those records to see if any alchemists did not see fit to appear. Then I would find out why they had not.”

Tauriel’s glance took in all of us. “I will have a word with the captain.”

She let herself out silently.

We talked quietly and played with Míriel for the few moments it took Tauriel to speak to the guardsman outside our door, and then to the captain himself once he arrived. In a very few moments, Tauriel slipped back inside. Her lips had narrowed to a disapproving line, her step was jerky, and her hands were clenched.

“The king should have Previl’s ears on a platter,” she muttered. “And Previl owes me a very, very large debt.”

“The checking you would have done, he has not,” Rhiannel surmised, shaking his head.

“He has not. But he will do so now. He is quite chagrined. If he is smarter than he is chagrined, he is running to the records chamber as we speak. He will take the audience records with him to the three largest suppliers of alchemical materials, and make the comparisons. I suggested he take Lindir with him to speed the process. He will report to King Thranduil as soon as he finds anything.”

“Rhiannel and I had better go back to the luncheon,” I told Tauriel. “We’re supposed to pretend to meet about the treaty after luncheon, but I expect we’ll talk about the alchemist. I know we planned that you and Giriel would stay here in disgrace, but given your experience on the guard, Tauriel, I’d rather you come with us. And Giriel, you should come, too, in case you see something in what we learn that the rest of us don’t.”

There was ready agreement from both maids, so we collected Míriel and traipsed back to the dining hall. Halfway there, we met Ondine coming to meet us, and she swept us off to the king’s private apartments, ostensibly where we’d have our pre-treaty discussion. Once inside, we found King Thranduil and Legolas with Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and Tethrandil. Giriel drew Legolas off for a side conversation as the rest of us described what Rhiannel had seen to the two Elf lords and Gandalf.

“Does the captain of the guards know of this?” King Thranduil demanded.

“I believe he does,” Tauriel said diplomatically. I smothered a grin at how well her neutral tone covered her earlier irritation.

“And what is the guard doing with this information?”

“They are checking the realm’s roster of alchemical suppliers to draw up a list of customers, which they will then compare to today’s audience record to see if all listed complied with your summons, my lord,” Tauriel replied crisply. She turned to Lord Elrond with a bow. “My lord, because you and the king have stressed how important it is to limit the spread of information about this matter, I took it upon myself to urge Previl to let Lindir accompany him, as he is both discreet and most efficient at sorting through such records.”

“I thank you for your prudence and discretion, Tauriel.” Lord Elrond offered the king a wry smile. “My aide is that rare soul who relishes a puzzle among parchment, Thranduil. If your guardsmen allow him, Lindir will sort through the records in very short order.”

“Excellent initiative on the part of my captain of the guard,” the king said drily. “He seems to have learned to think as quickly as his predecessor today.”

While Tauriel’s face was impassive, I smothered another smile, and not just at how easily she had slipped back into her role as captain of King Thranduil’s guard. The speed with which Previl had followed her advice attested to Tauriel’s skill. I squeezed her hand in approval.

“I am gratified that he has, my lord, given that our time is short and our need for information great.”

“True on both accounts.” King Thranduil looked down his long, thin nose at my wife, but given Lord Elrond’s presence, he didn’t say anything cutting.

“Father, Giriel and I can suggest another path that might lead us to more about the Elf we saw,” Legolas spoke soothingly into the awkward silence. He came forward with Giriel.

“What is it?” King Thranduil turned his sharp gaze on his son.

“I did not see enough of the face of this Elf to be of any help. But I did notice his clothes. Giriel asked me about them, and explained how they may offer us another way to find him.”

“How?”

At Legolas’s nod, Giriel explained. “Legolas mentioned the unusually deep black of the garments this Elf wore.” I recalled our journey to the Blue Mountains, where Giriel had told us that her family worked in silks and other rich fabrics, so she was well familiar with the their trade. “The dye work needed to produce fuligin, that deepest of blacks, is a complex and expensive one, especially for sueded leather and velvets such as this Elf wore, because the napped surfaces can take the dye unevenly without great care. Legolas said the dye work was fully deep and even, and the tailoring was very well done. Only a few artisans are so skilled. If the dye work is done within the Woodland Realm, a search of the artisan’s records might reveal who the customer is. If there are no such artisans here, then the materials would have been imported, and a search of import records might reveal who the importer was, and the importer might reveal who the buyer was.”

“Excellent suggestion,” Thranduil agreed, as Tethrandil bent to whisper into my ear. “Legolas, summon the head of the draper’s guild so that we may pursue this matter.”

“Tethrandil would be the perfect one to help us with that search,” I said. “He knows everything about sorting out import and export records.”

The king looked at me askance, but Lord Elrond offered a reassuring word.

“Kíli speaks correctly. Tethrandil spent many years as my chief trade negotiator, and is intimately familiar with such records.”

King Thranduil nodded acceptance with more ease than he’d greeted knowledge of Lindir’s efforts. He gave Lord Elrond an intrigued look, and to my surprise, me. “You maintain a staff of advisors with a surprising range of abilities, Kíli.”

I shrugged. “I can’t know everything myself, can I? I’m lucky to have very good advisors to help me. I couldn’t be a good ambassador without their wisdom about a lot of things. They help me more than I can thank them for.”

“So I see,” the king said, but I wondered if he truly did. Tauriel had said that he relied mostly on his own counsel, with very few others to hand. He wasn’t one who trusted easily, that was clear.

“If I may add one more avenue to explore.” Lord Elrond offered a deep look to Gandalf. “I would also ask to see the records from the jeweler’s guild.”

No one had to say anything about that, me among them. I’d already seen more than I wanted to about magical doings, between poisoned necklaces and magic rings. Jewelry seemed to be a common focus of magic; even tales from my own folk whispered about seven rings for Dwarf lords, something we didn’t talk about to anyone, hardly even ourselves. From a practical standpoint, it made sense. Jewelry was small, portable, and a common enough sight that it didn’t draw much comment about magic, even when it was ostentatious. The hums and knowing looks that went among us told me that everyone else had had similar thoughts to mine.

“There are many jewelers here,” Tauriel cautioned. “Those records will take longer to search.”

“I think you may dispense with all but the most exclusive jewelers,” Gandalf observed softly, looking around at us with a veiled look. “The observations about this Elf’s clothing, and his appearance at court tell me that he moves easily among the elite. He would not be one to dabble in cheap baubles.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Legolas said. “And that may offer us another one of Lord Elrond’s avenues of pursuit. If he moves among us so easily, then perhaps someone in the court knows this Elf.”

“We must be careful about how we ask,” Tauriel offered. “If we bluntly ask, ‘Has anyone seen an Elf with dark hair and eyes who wears beautiful and expensive fuligin clothing?’ we may cause him to retreat.”

“That’s right,” Giriel agreed. “We want to draw him out. So better we find out if this Elf is an alchemist, or a jeweler, or wears fuligin, and then we can ask more obliquely, with flattery. ‘Did you see the Elf who wore that beautiful fuligin coat yesterday? I’d love to know which tailor made it for him so I could get one myself,’ for example.”

“If one of the visitors from Imladris were to say that, especially a maid in the right admiring tone, it might bring the Elf right to you,” I grinned at Giriel, who mimed her flitter-wit’s look of dreamy admiration before grinning back.

“So it might,” the king observed, allowing himself a smile that mirrored ours. “It seems, then, that we have tasks to fill our afternoon before supper. Lord Elrond, Mithrandir, I suggest that the three of us make these chambers our center of command. We have Captain Previl and Lindir pursuing the apothecary suppliers and their customers. Legolas, if you would have the day’s audience records brought here in readiness for their return, please?”

“Of course, father.”

“Then I would like you to escort Tethrandil to the master of the draper’s guild to learn which of our artisans have mastered the dying of fuligin. You can then pursue either the artisan’s records or the import records.”

“I rather think I should be the one to consider the jewelers,” Gandalf mused, almost to himself. “Yes, that seems best. If I may have your leave, King Thranduil, I would like to speak to the master of the jewelers’ guild, and then make certain inquiries.”

“That leaves the two of us to practice our flitter-wittery,” Giriel grinned at Tauriel, then she sent a laughing glance to me and Rhiannel, “and the two of you to practice your long-suffering resignation to flitter-wits.”

I winced. “Isn’t there anything else I could do instead? Sweep the floor, scrub the sinks, perhaps?”

Even the king laughed at that.

“Speaking of that,” Tauriel said as the laughter died, and explained what we’d done about the carpets. “Just before we all go to supper, it would be a good idea to sweep the carpets to smooth them. We hope to give our play in the sitting room of our suite, but as little information as we have about our quarry, any clue as to whether he is with us or not would help.”

“What did you use to smooth the carpet?” Legolas asked curiously.

“We asked Ondine for a broom,” I told him. “Míriel, cracker crumbs, and so forth.”

“I’ll ask for one, as well, father.”

“Míriel will be happy to scatter crumbs for you to provide a plausible reason,” I quipped.

“Then let us be about it,” Lord Elrond rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

The afternoon passed slowly, as Gandalf, Teth, and Legolas went off to see what they could learn. Giriel and Tauriel went into Legolas’s sitting room to work on the hints they wanted to drop, leaving Rhiannel, Míriel, and me with the king and Lord Elrond. As we could do little until we had more information to work with, Rhiannel and I entertained Míriel on the floor with her toys. Gradually, the king and Lord Elrond began to talk a little about the Old Forest Road, and I joined in to explore the work that needed to be done to make the road navigable. Though King Thranduil was not in the habit of leaving the cavern often, he had lived for well over a millennium, and so had traveled the road in the past many times. Of course, he also remembered the forest before it had descended into decay, and I was interested to hear him speak of when it had been fair and green. He also talked about the coming of the spiders, and an occasional meeting with Gandalf’s fellow wizard, Radagast.

We were in the middle of a discussion about the stone used to pave the road when Lindir and Previl arrived. Legolas had left the audience record for them, and they huddled together to compare it to the list of alchemists they’d made. I fetched Tauriel and Giriel so they’d be on hand to hear the results.

We were all disappointed to learn that all of the alchemists listed on the rolls had appeared for their audience with the king.

I muttered Orcish under my breath in disappointment, but softly, given the regal company. “I thought sure we’d find something there.”

“Perhaps we have,” Lindir offered quietly, looking at Previl. “Previl and I went to see the three most well known of the alchemists’ suppliers, as you requested, and asked them to describe each of the Elves named on our list. Both confirmed that none had such dark hair and eyes as the Elf Rhiannel saw.”

“So is he not an alchemist, or a hidden one?” Rhiannel asked.

We needed more information before we could answer that. “See more of the alchemists’ suppliers,” the king said. “You have seen the most well known. Everything we have learned about this Elf points to how secretive he is. So visit some of the lesser-known suppliers. Perhaps our quarry favors them.”

Lindir and Previl set out again, and the rest of us settled back to our desultory discussions to wait for further developments.

Another two hours passed before Tethrandil and Legolas returned. We likely surprised them with how eagerly we pounced upon them for more news.

“There are no drapers in the realm who dye fuligin,” Legolas told us. “They tell us that the process is so costly that all but the wealthiest patrons blanch at the cost.”

“So the materials are imported?” the king asked.

Legolas nodded. “The drapers confirmed that it is less expensive to import dyed furs, leathers, and velvets, but still steep enough that it is imported only by specific request of a patron, never as a matter of course. So Tethrandil and I searched the import records. I would have taken much longer to find what we wanted, so I was well glad of Teth’s expertise.”

“But didn’t that tell you only the names of the drapers who imported it?” I asked.

Legolas smiled. “So I would have thought, and Teth confirmed that it is normal to see only the name of the drapers. But for such a rare commodity, it is the habit to list the name of the patron. We visited that particular draper, and he confirmed that the patron has dark hair and eyes, and is so discriminating that he comes to the import house with the draper to inspect the goods before he will agree to accept them.”

“So what name did you find? Any of the alchemists?”

Someone hastily handed Teth and Lindir the list of alchemists, which they scanned. Both of them shook their heads. “His name is not on the list. The name we found was –”

“Ah, you are all still here,” Gandalf heralded as he joined us. “I believe I have found Rhiannel’s mysterious Elf. He is a jeweler, not an alchemist, as least as a matter of record, though I suspect he is an alchemist as well. A very stealthy and subtle alchemist. He buys gold; gems that are mostly amethysts, sapphires, and rubies; and little else.”

“What is his name?” I asked breathlessly. “Teth and Legolas were just about to tell us who the fuligin is imported for. What’s his name?”

“Were they?” Gandalf looked chagrined. “Oh, I do apologize. Pray continue.”

Teth and Legolas exchanged a glance, and Teth gestured for Legolas to have the honor of revealing the name. The prince had just opened his mouth to speak when the door opened again, revealing Lindir and Previl.

“We found a name!” Previl heralded, his face alight with excitement. Lindir, however, looked dubious.

Everyone looked expectantly back and forth but no one spoke.

I snorted into the silence. “Oh, _miz barathar curp!_ Someone tell us the name of the _kurvanog lulgijakonez_ , then!”

Giriel smothered laughter. “Yes, please do, or I will swear, too!”

Tethrandil nudged Legolas, who was still coming to grips with my exasperated tone. At least he didn’t know what I’d said.

 “Taraer,” Legolas said. “The fuligin cloth was imported for an Elf named Taraer.”

“That’s the name we found, too,” Previl affirmed. “As you suspected, my lord, we found it in the records of one of the minor suppliers. He bought a small amount of finely ground amethyst.”

Lindir’s frown deepened, but the rest of us regarded Gandalf with expectant excitement. His smile was so mischievous that Lord Elrond chuckled.

“It is said that a wizard loves his moment of theater.”

“It is a rare pleasure, yes,” the grey-haired wizard smiled. “It is also a great pleasure to reveal the name of the jeweler that I have unearthed. It is also Taraer.”

“So we have a name, then!” I rubbed my hands together.

“I... do not know if we do or not,” Lindir said with a nervous swallow. “Taraer is a word rarely used now, but I’ve seen it often in books. It means ‘lofty one.’”

The silence was deafening, unless the sound of hearts thudding onto the silken carpet counted as a noise.

“So he’s having us on,” Giriel growled. “Not just us, but everyone.”

“We have uncovered only the presence of ego, then,” Gandalf sighed.

“It’s not so bad if we don’t have a real name yet,” I said into the silence, as firmly as I could muster in the face of my disappointment. “We still have our plan for supper tonight, where we have a good chance to get the Elf himself in hand.”

“Well said, Kíli,” Lord Elrond said just as firmly. “We also know something of this Elf’s habits and preferences, and we can use that information as we discussed earlier to ask questions at supper tonight. So you are right to remind us to remain positive.”

“We also know that he didn’t appear at the audience as King Thranduil ordered,” Tauriel added. “Even if he is not on the alchemists’ rolls, we can ask questions of him given his purchase at the supplier. To do that, we can check the records for one more thing – where this Taraer shelters in the cavern.”

The king nodded to Previl. “See to that at once, Captain.”

“My lord,” the captain strode out with purpose.

We waited in the king’s chambers for Previl’s return, despite it how late it was. Very soon, we needed to return to our chambers to dress for supper. Neither the king and high lord seemed to be overly concerned about that; I supposed that one of the prerogatives of being a lord was that the kitchen would hold supper for you without complaint until you were good and ready to have it. I wasn’t concerned about dressing, either, as that would take me little time. I did, however, want to have the time to give my hidden knives a careful sharpening.

It took another hour, but Previl came back at last. His demeanor was much less cheerful than it had been when he left.

“There is no Taraer on the records, my lord.”

I kept from swearing out loud, but others in the room, including Gandalf and Giriel, muttered audibly.

“Nothing has changed,” Lord Elrond reminded us calmly, with determination. “We will deploy ourselves at supper as we planned.”

“Yes, my lord,” murmured around the sitting room, but our voices were subdued.

“Come on, Orc Spawn,” I muttered. “He hasn’t given us much, but there are more of us than there are of him, and we’re smart. We’ll make him make a mistake, just wait and see, and then we’ll run him to ground.”

“ _Malkog dath_ ,” Giriel agreed firmly.

“Then let us prepare for our foray by the buffet table,” Lord Elrond suggested. He turned to the king. “In an hour, then?”

The king bowed. “In an hour.”

After the appropriate bows and polite murmurs, we headed back to our rooms to dress. In case someone lurked near us, no one said anything of import, though Giriel wafted a bit, just on general principles. When we got to our rooms, everyone checked the carpets, but it seemed that our rooms had been left unrifled by one and all.

Tauriel and I took off our coats and kicked off boots with sighs of relief. Míriel was happy to get out of her small tunic and crawl busily around on the floor while Tauriel disappeared into our room to lay out her dress. The three of us had a rousing game of chase around the sitting room furniture, and she climbed up on my shins to play ride the pony. It was good to roll around with my gleeful bairn, for she and I had behaved ourselves all day, and we were ready to laugh and giggle and throw her toys without restraint. The squeaky ball was well squashed by the time we had to put on our clothes for supper.

I had little work to do other than to put on a fresh tunic and tidy my hair, so I picked through Míriel’s clothes to give Tauriel more time to see to herself. “What are you wearing?” I asked Tauriel, holding up a small green gown. “Does this go with it?”

“It does,” Tauriel said, holding up a purple tunic with purple and green beading. She regarded the soft fabric with a frown. “I have never worn such an elegant uniform on patrol before.”

“Neither have I,” I agreed. “I’ve still got two knives in my coat and two in my boots, though. I’d hoped to sharpen the lot, but there wasn’t time.”

“You have never been in the habit of letting your knives dull,” Tauriel murmured, easing the tunic over her head.

“No. But I like to sharpen them. It’s soothing.”

“So I find it, too.”

I sat on the bed, then flopped onto my back. “Valar, I’m tired already of all the sitting and waiting and talking. Even riding through Mirkwood was better than all this enforced posturing.”

“I will be glad to dispense with this thief, and this treaty, and return home. I hope we don’t have to stay here all winter.”

“Maybe we can backtrack to Beorn’s for the winter. I can offer to chop wood for our keep all winter. That’s another chore I find soothing.”

“That is a long time for you to go without meat.”

“I’d do it before I’d stay here all winter. This place makes me appreciate Lord Elrond and Imladris all the more.”

“As do I. Or perhaps we can convince the king to negotiate in the _Glawar-galad_ so as to come to agreement in time for us to go home before winter blocks the mountain passes.”

I stretched. “Good idea. I’m getting us back in there, one way or another. I want to look for the rare flowers, and find our runes again.”

I sat up, snared Míriel who was exploring how much of the rug she could rumple, and put her on the bed to dress her. “Come, little jewel. Time to dress up again. Then we can find you some apple crumble.”

“Cumble?” Míriel repeated, her eyes bright. “Cumble, Tada!”

“I’ll get you an entire bowl of it, with cream,” I promised, guiding her arms through the sleeves of the tunic, then drawing up her leggings. “Whatever you don’t eat, I will.”

“I’m ready,” Tauriel said. “Here are Miri’s slippers.”

We got the slippers on our babe, who thought it was a good game to kick while we tried to tie the laces. Then we gave each other a thorough inspection.

“You look beautiful,” I complimented Tauriel. Though the tunic was Giriel’s, it suited my wife very well. “The color is wonderful.”

“I thank you, but the color is not the only reason that I chose this one.”

“No?”

She held up both wrists. “My daggers fit inside the sleeves. And my garrote fits behind the collar perfectly.”

Despite the uncertainty of what lay before us tonight, I snickered. “Spoken like the consummate captain of the guard that you are, _amrâlimê_ , and I love you for it.”

Tauriel’s smile was fond. “Then let us go catch our thief, _a’maelamin_.”

We went out to meet our comrades. Supper awaited us. So, I hoped, did a thief.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. The trap is sprung. Who and what do you think it'll catch?
> 
> Enjoy the flitter-wits, the orange syrup cakes, and the mayhem!

  _Finlor hurried back to his sanctuary, his thoughts in rare disarray. How could he have become so flustered in just a few seconds? He shoved the door closed behind him, stripped off his fuligin coat, and yanked the ring of invisibility off his finger. Then he threw himself down in his favorite plush chair to gather himself, his ring clenched in his fist._

_He had lurked outside the rooms of the Imladris visitors early that morning, watching when Ondine led them off to breakfast. He lingered by the rooms long enough to count how many guards stood watch, and to confirm that they were truly empty. Not merely of occupants – he was well able to count that all of the visitors had followed the officious Ondine – but also of magic. Yes, the sense of the magic that so drew Finlor remained with the visitors, confirming that it was too important to leave behind in a guestroom. He slipped through the corridors in pursuit of the Imladris visitors._

_By the time he neared the dining room, Ondine was describing the sights that would dazzle during the morning’s tour. Finlor didn’t bother to trail behind them as they regarded the cavern formations. Those vistas had paled for Finlor long, long ago; glistening rocks mimicked the sparkle of gems only poorly, and splashes along the Forest River were only momentary gleams of bright light that didn’t last like the flashes of diamonds, or the iridescence of opals and pearls. He retired to his rooms until he thought the visitors would be tired of traipsing through the cavern and demand luncheon, then he ventured out again, still hidden by his ring of invisibility. He was content to wait in silence and stillness behind the statue so conveniently placed in an alcove opposite the entrance arch to the dining room._

_Yes, here came the high lord trouping, his retinue about him. He talked easily with the wizard, so bedraggled and inelegant in his dour grey rags. Just behind them, the strange ambassador talked with one of the brown-haired Elves. What Elf would have willingly chosen to breed with a Dwarf to spawn this odd mongrel? And had Thranduil’s cast-off captain of the guard taken leave of her senses to marry that mongrel? That was so at odds with her sober and smart reputation. Still, there had been rumors of her prowling the forest at night, hunting Orcs. Perhaps that was it – her bloodlust had found a willing mate in a halfbreed with similar tendencies. He well understood why she so often foisted their mop-headed get on the halfbreed. Let one halfbreed take care of another._

_The other Elves in the high lord’s retinue were like those he recalled from his sole visit to Imladris. All were tall and fair, and most were clearly more intelligent than the red-haired Nandor or the halfbreed. The white-haired Elf was older and more experienced than all but the high lord, and carried himself with easy confidence. The young aide talking to the halfbreed was much younger, studious and a bit nervous – new to this, then. The dark-haired Elf behind the aide was also retiring, another studious one, but more at ease. As quiet as he was, though, he’d have no luck with the vivacious blond maid beside him. What a beauty she was! Charismatic, bright, willowy, graceful – she must dance superbly – but without a serious thought between her bewitching ears. What thoughts she had centered on her beautiful trappings, for the apricot silk of her dress was rare and intricately embroidered with flowers. The gems in her hair were pale green, wound in twinkling chains through her silky hair to trail down her back like a dreamlike waterfall. She was as exquisite a maid as he’d seen since that haughty Lothlórien maid to whom he’d sent the dreamflower necklace some years ago, but much warmer, more alive – less pale porcelain, more walking sunlight. She so intrigued Finlor that he ventured out from behind the statue and followed the group into the dining room._

_As big as the dining hall was, it was easy to lurk behind another statue that gave Finlor a fine view of the proceedings. The blond maid drew all attention to herself with unconscious grace. Why she insisted on dragging the Nandor maid behind her was a mystery, for the red-haired Elf was so obviously uncomfortable. Finlor didn’t recall ever seeing the king’s former captain of the guards at any function before, other than as a guardsman, so the maid clearly understood her lack of stature beside the more exalted Sindarin and even higher-ranking Noldori. Finlor smothered a smile as the court dainties descended upon the blond maid, recognizing one of their own – no, one of their betters. He continued to watch them as the king and prince joined the luncheon, amused at how the blond maid disrupted the usual hierarchy of gossipers and poseurs. She was a flitter-wit par excellence, to be sure, but with such a friendly charm and delight that robbed her bantering of malice. She was refreshing as well as beautiful._

_Finlor didn’t neglect his study of the rest of the room, despite how delicious it was to watch the blond maid. The dark-haired Elf who had escorted her spent most of the luncheon in concerned watchfulness with the halfbreed, tensing when the blond began to wax eloquent about her love of jewelry. The red-haired Nandor had finally relaxed a bit, allowing herself to be drawn into the maids’ gaiety, but she froze when the halfbreed took her arm and wanted to draw her away. His words were low, if hers were not, so Finlor heard only parts of the conversation, but he assumed the mongrel made some pretense about the brat needing a meal. As much as he’d stuffed into the little creature from the buffet table, it wasn’t hungry. But at some mention of jewelry from the blond, the mongrel’s temper flashed, and he took the Nandor maid from the dining room._

_Finlor had to wait for a pair of Elves to pass his niche before he could hurry after the pair. So great was his haste that he nearly barreled into both of them. He didn’t expect the pair to allow their guardsman to walk beside them – servants walked either before or after, never beside as an equal! He drew up short, wincing when the jerky movement pulled the slash across his flank and threw off his balance. He only narrowly avoided stumbling into the Nandor maid. She stopped in her tracks – had she felt him brush her dress? Finlor put a hand to his burning wound, silently cursed the mongrel that had dared to mark him so, and threw himself into the statue niche. He held his breath._

_“I don’t know what the point of jewelry is if one cannot wear it!” the maid snapped. “I mean it! I spent six hundred years in this place, as plain as a forest mouse, and now that I’m back as the wife of an ambassador, the least I could do to support you is to look the part. That thing came all the way from Lothlórien to Imladris, and we’ve carried it here, and for what if it cannot be worn?”_

_“Keep your voice down!” the halfbreed snarled. “You haven’t the first idea what you’re talking about, and it’s for King Thranduil to sort out with Lord Elrond, not you!”_

_“It’s not as if the king would want to wear it! It’s for a maid! What does he care about it? Trust me, dreamflowers would not suit him.”_

_“Enough, Tauriel!” The mongrel grabbed the maid’s arm, and dragged her behind him. “You come with me now, or I’ll think you had something to do with the loss of the first one. Let this one stay safely where it belongs!”_

_Finlor was stunned. There was_ another _treasure besides magic rings and dreamflower necklaces? He thought back rapidly on the conversation that had preceded the halfbreed’s angry reaction. Had the blond maid started to say something about a diadem? Was there a match to the necklace, then?_

_Finlor belatedly flung himself out of the statue niche to follow the retreating pair, but in the corner of his eye he realized another Elf had just left the dining room, and he was about to crash into him. He flinched back into the niche, waited impatiently for the Elf to go by, and then slithered around the statue and into the hall –_

_His hand caught on a protruding edge of the statue, snagging his ring of invisibility and tearing it from his hand. No one was in the hall to see him appear, or to hear him curse when the ring bounced across the hall, through the arched entrance, and into the dining room. He dashed after it, catching it before it caromed off the wall. He immediately turned and fled the room before anyone looked around to see him. He could not follow his quarry now, but must guard his secret from discovery. Around the first corner was a vacant necessary, and he ducked inside. He smoothed his tunic and hair, admired his reflection in the mirror as he quieted his breathing, and then slipped his ring back on._

_Once safely back in his quarters, he clenched the betraying ring as he considered what to do. Should he remain here to let the excitement of luncheon calm? No, the mention of a mate to the dreamflower necklace was too alluring. The blond maid had said she would wear her jewels tonight at supper. Finlor decided that he wanted to be there to see them._

_He got up to find a fine, gold chain, and a narrow cuff bracelet. It was the work of a moment to run the fine chain from ring to bracelet. When he dressed tonight, the bracelet would be firmly on his wrist, and the fine chain would ensure that his ring did not slip off again._

_He laid out his small suede bag, as well. It would be useful to hold a certain trinket, as well as any others that came his way during the night’s foray._

 

* * *

 

If I thought I’d been apprehensive at luncheon, I was doubly so waiting for supper. Even the Orc Spawn’s usual habit of grasping hands and chanting our irreverent motto before following Lord Elrond and Gandalf didn’t ease me as much as I wanted. Why? Because this was not like any foray I’d ever made. Chasing giant spiders, Orcs of all descriptions, bandits, or surly Dwarves did not faze me. Acting like a flitter-wit did, because it was such an unnatural role. At least Giriel could use my awkwardness to make my capitulation about the diadem more plausible. Kíli recognized my tension, for as we fell into place after Lord Elrond, he squeezed my hand in reassurance.

“It’s just a different kind of disguise to catch our prey,” he whispered. “Though it is a pretty one, and I like to look at you in it.”

I squeezed his hand in return, mute thanks. “I will be fine once the game begins. I hate waiting for a fight as much as you do.”

He hummed, a sound that made Míriel smile and hum in kind. He nuzzled our small daughter cradled in his arm, smiling. “Míriel doesn’t like waiting, either. Especially for apple crumble.”

“Cumble?” Míriel murmured, her eyes brightening. “Want cumble.”

“You’ll have to sample the soup and bread and fruit, too, little jewel.” Kíli hefted her. “I think you’re getting heavier, Miri. You must like solid food more than I thought.”

“She’s not suckling long now,” I observed. “You have taught her too well about the joys of table over _Maamr_ , Kili.”

“I suppose I’ll have to take up the slack,” was Kíli’s sly reply, as he gave me a considered look full of laughter as well as arousal. “Miri, it’s a sore trial you leave to me.”

Kíli’s comment gave me something to smile about as we entered the dining hall. “Since it is such a terrible task, I will not ever ask you to see to it, then.”

“You won’t ever have to ask me, maid,” he mock growled. “I’ll see to it and anything else I can persuade you to allow me, every time you so much as smile at me.”

“I hope you can wait to do so until we’re in private, _a’maelamin_. Otherwise, it would be awkward for those around us.”

He laughed softly. “That’s the only concession I’ll make. Now, we’d better stop, or we’ll look too happy to have a public fight.”

"Perhaps we will not have to fight, if I can plead too much wine instead."

"Either works. We'll see what happens."

I murmured agreement as the rush of Elves flowed to envelope us. It was time to spring our trap.

To my relief, the supper was pleasant. The food was as delicious as it had been when I had lived here, and I was able to introduce Kíli to the honeyed seed cakes I liked so much. He and Míriel made a big show of sampling the rosewater biscuits that were King Thranduil’s favorites, but they were too crunchy for Míriel to enjoy easily. She agreed with Legolas about the orange syrup cakes, however, for they were moist and soft enough to dissolve in her mouth without much chewing. Of course, there were many other dishes besides pastries, and even Kíli found no reason to complain about the quantity of meat dishes that he needed to keep hunger at bay. A delicious venison dish lasted not at all once he discovered it. Míriel liked the gravy from that, and the vegetable soup. I could mash that into a paste that our babe found easy to eat, and she devoured a large bowl of it. There was no apple crumble, but Míriel didn’t notice with so many other dishes to sample.

Legolas took a moment before the flitter-wit deluge began to bring Míriel one of his orange syrup cakes.

“Your little one has excellent taste in pastries,” he smiled. “May I?”

“Of course. Míriel, your uncle Legolas is more generous than you realize. These are his favorite treat by far.”

“Mmm,” Míriel hummed emphatically, savoring the small bit that Legolas had fed her. “Good.”

Legolas laughed; I was glad to see him so relaxed and animated. “It is good to see an honest reaction from anyone at a court affair.”

I looked around, but none of the flitter-wits was near. “I am sorry you must endure such things.”

“The Imladris court is not like ours, then?”

I shrugged. “Not at all; they are much like Lord Elrond himself, without so much posturing as here. Even so, I do not attend many court events. The Orc Spawn have our own diversions. Our houses are near, and we share suppers and conversation on our own.”

“I hear that term often among you – the Orc Spawn. What is it?”

“They are the friends who originally welcomed Kíli and me into the Imladris guard. We serve together. Most of us are here, but not Drennal and Fallin. They will welcome their own babe in late winter, and did not want to risk the rigors of such a long journey. A few others remained, as well, but the six of us with Drennal and Fallin are the heart of the Orc Spawn.”

We chatted softly for a few moments while Legolas fed Míriel the rest of his cake, both of us chuckling at how much she relished it. Across the room, Kíli smiled, glad that I had the luxury of these moments with the Elf who had been my friend for so long. A little further on, however, was Legolas’s father, and his regard was not so smiling.

It was not haughty, either, I realized. It was regretful.

I looked away before King Thranduil realized I’d seen him. Two years ago, the day I’d found Kíli wandering with his kinsmen in the forest, the king had lectured me about my unsuitability as a partner for his son. At first, I had been surprised to think that he’d even considered such a pairing, then devastated to realize how little he thought of me. By the time Legolas had decided to look past his father’s dictates, it had been too late, for Kíli and I had already bonded. But now, did the king see something more than his disregard when he looked at me with a child in my arms, and his son smiling beside me?

I wondered if Legolas felt the same regret.

It made no difference. Whatever might have grown between Legolas and me had died before it had ever begun. Still, no matter how happy I was with Kíli and our life together, I wished for Legolas to find more happiness than he had so far.

I was glad that Giriel came to sweep me off into the middle of the flitter-wits before my somber thoughts got the best of me. She’d ensconced herself with six of the maids, the infamous Niriellen among them, in the corner of the dining chamber closest to the entrance, hoping that would entice our thief to draw near. As she made a seat for me beside her on the settee, Míriel was my savior, for she laughed and burbled at the attentions of the maids, and I let their pretty compliments about my babe ease me into the role I needed to play. By the time Kíli came to take Míriel as we’d planned, I was smiling and laughing as much as my sister.

“I am glad to see you so happy, _amrâlimê_ ,” Kíli bowed. “May I bring you anything before I take Míriel for a while?”

“Oh, Kíli, would you bring us a bottle of the wine?” Giriel piped up, eyes wide. “The red is so delicious, and Tauriel, you have to try at least a little of it. Please, Kíli?”

Kíli put his hand on his heart and bowed. “It is my pleasure to do so, Giriel. Half a moment.”

He fetched two bottles of wine and a tray of glasses and returned to our cluster of maids, setting the lot down on the small table in our midst. “Here you are, pretty maids. Now, let me take Míriel, and the two of us will see what cakes we have yet to try, won’t we?”

Kíli brushed a decorous kiss on my lips, which wasn’t out of place, but a flutter of envious giggles whispered through the six maids who sat with Giriel and me. Well aware of the undercurrent, Kíli’s lips curved up and he gave me a mischievous smile before he took Míriel in his arms.

“Until later, maids,” he purred, and took Míriel off with a sprightly step, but not a backward glance. That would have ruined the beauty of the moment.

“Such beautiful eyes,” one of the maids breathed. “You’re so lucky, Tauriel, even if he is short!”

“I am,” I agreed wholeheartedly, smiling. Yes, I recalled countering that same comment from Giriel during my marriage celebration, noting that not all of Kíli was short. But I had not drunk nearly enough wine yet to make the same reply now.

“Is it true that you’re bonded?”

“It is,” I nodded.

“What is it like?”

That provided fodder to feed the conversation for some time, and gave us reason to sample more of the king’s heady wine than was good for most of the flitter-wits. Still, that gave Giriel and I many openings to shift the subject from bonding to jewelry. I started it when I described my marriage ceremony and the rings Kíli had made for both of us. The maids oohed over the rings in my ears, which were novel for the Woodland Realm. That allowed Giriel to cringe at the thought of needles plunging through her ears, and how bracelets and necklaces and diadems and rings were so much nicer because they didn’t require piercing her tender flesh. From there she waxed lyrical over her favorite pieces, and as the wine flowed, her descriptions grew more and more eloquent.

“Rose rubies,” she sighed as if over a lover. “They are so beautiful. Perhaps they are my favorite. Far more beautiful than the plain red ones, don’t you think?”

“They are beautiful,” one of the maids agreed. She took another swallow of the wine. She held up the glass to the light, regarding the red liquid inside with steady eyes that were not truly steady at all. “Like the color of the wine, those are the best ones.”

“Those are garnets,” Niriellen protested. “Aren’t they? The red ones? Or do I mean agates?”

“Agates do not let the light shine through,” a third corrected. “They’re stone. Best in inlays, not in rings or things. Garnets are the clear deep red gems.”

“I like sapphires. I have a set of them. A necklace and a diadem, all white gold and the bluest sapphires. So beautiful.”

Giriel winked at me over her glass. “Tauriel has a necklace and a diadem, too. I keep trying to convince her to wear them, even though the colors aren’t best for her. They’d look wonderful on me. But she won’t let me wear them, even though I’ve loaned her three of my best dresses. That is most unfair, I think.”

I reddened on cue. When I had despaired in private of ever managing to blush when I wanted to, Kíli had whispered something quite decadent in my ear and told me to think of it when I wanted to blush. I would tell him later how successfully it had worked, even if it distracted me for a moment, but I would attribute that to the wine if anyone noticed my lapse. “I’ve told you Giriel, the necklace and the diadem are not mine. We are not even supposed to talk about them.”

“Oh, why not?” Giriel pouted. “They are just jewelry, are they not? You told me we are just supposed to say they’re just jewelry, and so I just did. At least tell us what they look like.”

“I promised Kíli I would not. We are not supposed to talk about them at all.”

Giriel splashed more wine in my glass, as well as those of one or two others. She winked at the soberer ones. “And why not? Just tell us what they look like. You said they have the most beautiful rose rubies in them.”

“Rose rubies... yes.” I sipped my wine, grimaced, and put the cup aside. “I do not want any more wine, I think. I feel dizzy.”

“It is warm in this chamber,” Niriellen complained, wafting her wrap in a futile effort to cool off. “Maybe a sip of cooler wine will help you feel better. I will get some.”

She got up gracefully, but her careful steps between her chair to the buffet table and back revealed that her wineglass had kept pace with Giriel’s. When she returned to us, she took up my glass, dumped the remaining red out into a fruit bowl, nearly consuming Giriel and the maid beside her with laughter, and refilled it with the new vintage. This one was pale, the color of sunlight.

“There. This will cool you.”

I took up the glass and sipped while the other maids either drank the remains of their red down, or added to the liquid in the fruit bowl and filled their glasses with the paler vintage.

“Oh, delicious!” Giriel pronounced it, and drained her glass. She held out her glass to be refilled, which happened without too much spillage. “Much cooler, is it not, Tauriel?”

I nodded. “It is. I feel a little better.”

“So you said your jewelry has rose rubies?” one of the maids pressed. “Pale ones, or deeper ones?”

“The most beautiful ripe pink, not too dark. Set in green and pink gold – oh, I should not have said that. I promised Kíli.”

“Kíli will not mind, _osellë_ ,” Giriel soothed me. “Tell us about the design. Is it Dwarvish knots?”

“Oh, no,” I shook my head. “The most beautiful dreamflowers. But the necklace cannot be worn. There is something wrong with it. King Thranduil is going to fix it. But the diadem –”

“What about the diadem?” one of the maids breathed, her eyes the size of saucers. “Is it broken, too?”

“Not... broken,” I pretended to feel dizzy. “Oh, Valar, I feel so dizzy.”

“Are you all right? Do you want me to take you back to our rooms?” Giriel looked concerned. “You do look ill, Tauriel. Let me take you to lie down for a while.”

“All... all right. I must tell Kíli...”

“I will tell him, Tauriel, I promise,” Giriel said soothingly as she drew me up. “And perhaps when we get back to our rooms and you feel a little better, you can show me the diadem.”

“I – I... all right...”

Giriel flashed a gleeful look of excitement among the maids. “Oh, thank you, Tauriel! Thank you! Everyone, I will be right back to show it to you! Just wait!”

“But I promised Kíli...” I protested weakly as Giriel guided me towards the door. Before we reached it, Kíli and Gandalf turned towards us.

“Tauriel, are you all right?” Kíli asked in concern. Míriel was still in his arms.

“The wine... I would like to lie down, I think.”

“Of course. I’ll go with you.”

“No, stay, Kíli,” Giriel urged him. “Míriel is having a fine time, and I can see Tauriel safely to our room with one of the guardsmen. You stay so you can talk to King Thranduil.”

“Yes, Kíli,” Gandalf said, his hand on Kíli’s shoulder. “It is important for you to spend time with the king and Lord Elrond, so that he feels comfortable about your treaty. I will see Tauriel and Giriel safely back to our rooms.”

Kíli’s worried look was not feigned, and he swallowed. “I thank you, Gandalf, but if Tauriel isn’t well, I’d rather go with her.”

“I’ll be fine in a little while, Kíli,” I said bravely. “Do not lose this chance to be with the king. It will help the treaty, and I will return in just a little while. I am fine.”

Kíli nodded reluctantly. “If you’re sure, then. I’ll keep Míriel with me, so you don’t have to worry about her.”

“Thank you, _amrâlimê_. I will be back in just a few moments.”

He stood by the entrance as Giriel and Gandalf flanked me to see me back to our rooms. A pair of our guardsmen fell in with us, one before and one behind, and we paced slowly through the lamplit corridors to our chambers.

Did our thief trail our party, hoping to strike again?

 

* * *

 

Our progress was slow as Giriel and Gandalf shepherded me back to our rooms at a shuffle, in deference to my supposed dizziness. We hoped that gave our thief ample opportunity to follow us. Gandalf preceded us into our sitting room.

“I shall fetch you some water, Tauriel,” said Gandalf, scanning the room. “Oh, there is no carafe here. Is it in your room?”

“I think so,” I murmured, sending Gandalf into our room. This allowed him to cache the diadem there. He’d carried it in its box since Kíli had finished it, unwilling to risk it until absolutely necessary. He came out with empty hands.

“There isn’t one, my dear,” he explained. “I’ll fetch the one from my room.”

He hastened out, leaving the door to the corridor open. This was to give the thief the chance to sneak inside. Despite my apparent dizziness, I tried to watch the carpet, but Gandalf bustled back before I saw anything.

“Here we are,” the wizard said, pouring me a large glass full. “This is the best thing for you, you know. Plenty of fresh water to dilute the king’s heady wine. There, you drink all of that, and then at least two more full glasses in the next hour, and you’ll feel much improved.”

I gladly drank down half the glassful. I had never cared to drink wine to excess, for it seemed to make me thirstier. “Thank you Gandalf. I will do as you say.”

“I’ll look after her, Mithrandir,” Giriel assured him, sitting next to me on the settee. “I’ll make sure she drinks all of the water, and bring her back to the gathering as soon as she feels better.”

“All right,” Gandalf assented. “I’ll be in my room if you need me. I’ve had quite enough entertainment for the eve, I think.”

“Good night, then, Mithrandir,” Giriel called after him.

“Good night, Giriel, Tauriel. Good rest to you this eve.”

“Thank you,” Giriel said, and Gandalf paced out of the room, drawing the door shut behind him.

Was the thief here?

“Do you want to lie down, _osellë_?” Giriel asked with the utmost solicitation. “I’m sorry you feel so dizzy. It was nice to have so many cheerful maids to talk to. I’ve missed our court from home so much.”

“I know you have. No, I don’t want to lie down. I’ll just sit quietly here while you talk to me. Then we can go back to the gathering and you can enjoy yourself again.”

“If we’re going to chat, then, I know what I want to chat about, _osellë_. Tell me about this mysterious necklace and diadem.”

“Giriel, I’ve told you and told you. I can’t say anything. I promised Kíli. No one’s supposed to know about it.”

“But why?” Giriel protested gently. “I just want to understand, that’s all, Tauriel. If you’d just explain it to me, then I’d know why we can’t talk about it.”

“I don’t really know myself,” I said. “Kíli won’t talk about it at all. All I know is what I overheard Lord Elrond tell him.”

“And what did he say?” Giriel begged prettily.

“Something about the Lady Galadriel.”

“But she’s in Lothlórien, not Imladris, so that doesn’t seem right.”

“I think a very long time ago, this necklace and diadem were hers. The necklace was stolen, and ended up poisoned by a dragon. It turned up somehow, and Lord Elrond wrote to the Lady about it, and they agreed to that the only one who might be able to get rid of the poison was King Thranduil. So the Lady sent the diadem for the king to study, to see if he could fix the necklace so the two could work in harmony again.”

“So no one can wear the necklace?” Giriel looked affronted. “Why didn’t you just say so? Who cares about this necklace if it’s too poisoned for anyone to wear it?”

“Because it’s missing. Someone stole it.”

“Is that why everyone’s been in such a stir?” Giriel wondered. “Even Rhiannel hasn’t been interesting ever since. It’s been boring.”

I gave her a jaundiced look. “It’s lost, and all you care is that you are bored? Valar, Giriel, this is important!”

“Why? Someone took a necklace no one can wear. What will they do with it, then? It’s useless. Anyway, you’ve still got the diadem. Oh, don’t tell me that one’s poisoned, too.”

“I don’t think so. Giriel, we have to stop talking about it.”

“Let me see it, then. I won’t wear it back to the gathering. I promise. I’ll just look at it.”

“Giriel, stop talking. My head aches very badly –”

“Oh, Valar, Tauriel, first you want me to talk to you and now you don’t. I’ve come all this way to keep you company, and I miss my friends – my other friends, I mean, because you’re my friend, too, but you understand what I mean. A single short look is all I ask. I just want to see what the stir is about, and then I won’t ask another thing for the whole rest of the time we’re here. Please, Tauriel?”

“Valar,” I muttered under my breath. “I don’t suppose it will hurt to give you a quick look, especially if it means you’ll leave me alone. My head is throbbing terribly.”

“Then get the diadem and I’ll just sit here quietly looking at it.”

I forced myself up, and made my way into our room. Yes, Gandalf had set a beautiful carved wooden box on the chest by the bed. I looked inside, and Kíli’s diadem lay nestled within, looking beautiful in the dim light. I shut the box, and carried it out to Giriel. When she saw me, she clapped her hands gleefully and exclaimed in excitement.

“Oh, there it is!” she breathed. “Come, sit down and open it. I can’t wait to see it!”

I sat beside her on the settee and set the box on the table before us. I leaned forward to open it.

“There. See?”

“It’s beautiful.”

I shut the box. “It is.”

“Oh, Tauriel, that was too short a look. I want a longer look!”

She leaned forward to open the box herself, then the diadem was in her hand. “Oh, it’s so, so beautiful! I can feel it. It’s warm!”

“Giriel, put it down! You said you wouldn’t touch it! Put it down now!”

“Oh, you have to let me try it on, _osellë_! It’s so beautiful...”

Giriel pulled off her circlet and raised the diadem to set it on her head, but the piece never touched her hair. It was pulled from her fingers as if possessed, and disappeared as if someone had thrown a veil around it –

“He’s got it!” Giriel shouted, and both of us pulled out knives. “Guards! Block the door! The thief is here!”

The door to our sitting room burst open, and the Orc Spawn, Lord Elrond, Legolas, King Thranduil, Gandalf, and a dozen guardsmen rushed in. A dozen more blocked the hallway beyond. We had our thief –

The worst feeling of lust and desire flooded me – oh, Valar, the thief had the dreamflower necklace with him, and he had just taken it out of its mithril box!

Chaos descended as every Elf in the room and hallway began a vicious fight with whoever was closest. Giriel and I were no different – we set on each other, crossing knives as if we were the vilest of enemies. But in only a few seconds, the lust disappeared as if cut off with a knife. I had wrestled Giriel onto the floor and she held onto my knife hand to keep the blade from skewering her. Before I could gasp at what we’d done, Kíli’s enraged voice screamed into the silence.

“You fucking bastard! You fucking, fucking son of a bitch, I will hunt you down and cut off your balls with a rusty knife, you fucker!”

I scrambled to my feet, pulling Giriel up with me, and we ran to the door where Kíli stood. His eyes were wild, and he held a bloody knife. But it wasn’t his knife that he looked at, but something beyond the sitting room. He dropped the knife and ran out into the corridor.

“Oh, Valar,” I gasped, and ran after Kíli. When Giriel and I had left the dining room, the rest of our company was supposed to follow a few moments afterward. We’d decided that it would be too dangerous for Kíli to hold Míriel, and so a trailing guardsman would take her and remain safely at the back of the company.

That guardsman lay prone on the corridor floor, and Míriel lay beside him.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Here's the aftermath of Finlor's ruthless attack. 'Nuff said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> saukarya kurv = evil fucker

_Finlor flitted away from the chaos he’d left in his wake, laughing silently as the halfbreed’s deliciously impotent words echoed after him._

_“You fucking bastard! You fucking, fucking son of a bitch, I will hunt you down and cut off your balls with a rusty knife, you fucker!”_

_That was the most perfect, most delectable compliment to his flawless escape that he could have asked for. He had a magic diadem to pair with a magic necklace, he had two dozen incapacitated Elves reeling after trying to kill each other, and he had the pure, sweet sound of helpless rage to speed him home. It was all he could do to contain his jubilation._

_He slowed as he made his invisible way through the corridors, replaying the scene. Were the exalted Elves of Imladris so completely incompetent? Oh, how he’d enjoyed watching their supper from his niche, wedged invisibly behind the column that supported the arched entrance..._

_The maids twittered like silly, beautiful birds, laughing and drinking entirely too much while their oblivious males talked among themselves of what they thought were more serious topics. Even when they realized the extent of the maids’ excesses, they stood by like dead tree stumps and let the maids venture into dangerous, dangerous territory. The Nandor maid should have recognized how her pretty friend coaxed and cajoled her, but Finlor recalled that the former captain had rarely drunk wine at all, much less the king’s headiest red, and her unfamiliar discomfort drew more of her attention than the maids’ wheedling did. The blond maid wasn’t intelligent enough to be interested in more than the tantalizing tale of a pretty trinket, which was unfortunate. There was much he could do with a servant who had such wiles, but maids, he’d learned to his anger, were incomprehensible and inconstant creatures worthy of use rather than reliance. Still this one’s gentle, mindless insistence was entertaining to watch._

_When the Nandor wanted to retire, Finlor all but licked his lips. Good, good; the mongrel would not accompany her back to their chamber, but the wizard would – that was potentially dangerous. He followed the two maids and the wizard out of the dining room, this time careful to wait for the guardsmen to fall into step. He smothered impatience at how slowly the group moved; the Nandor maid was too dizzy to move faster, and needed the arms of both her friend and the wizard to help her along. Finlor hung back when they at last reached the visitor’s chambers, waiting until the guardsmen took up their places on either side of the door. The wizard came out, but left the door open as he went into his room and then reappeared with a carafe of water. Finlor slipped inside and took up a place behind the door before the wizard came back into the room. When the wizard left the maids to recover, Finlor stayed where he was to watch._

_Ah, nicely done. The blond maid coaxed the Nandor so gently to fetch the box, as easily as a gutter kitten’s mew melted the hearts of the weak-hearted children in the filthy towns of Men. The box was on the table, but Finlor didn’t have to see what was in it to know it was a powerful talisman. He felt it from where he stood. He waited, waited, waited..._

_Only when the blond maid held the diadem above her head did Finlor move. A few swift steps to the back of the settee, a swift darting hand, and it was his. He stuffed it in his small suede bag and down his tunic, then pulled out the mithril box. Yes, the maids both screamed as soon as he took the diadem from him, and yes, they called for the guard. And yes, the guards outside the door rushed in –_

_What was this? The maids’ entire retinue, the Woodland king and prince, and a dozen guards followed?_

_No matter. He seized the blond maid’s hand, brushed a kiss on it, and let it go as she spasmed in shock. That was an inspired touch, he thought, as he opened the mithril box, grasped the necklace in his hand, and waited the split second it took for everyone in the room to turn on each other. Amid the thrash of chaos, it was easy to avoid the wizard and the high lord, who tried to keep the king and prince from killing each other. Not so easy to avoid was the mongrel who crouched right in the doorway, knives at the ready in both hands. Why did he stare at the carpet? Of course! He looked for footprints made by no one visible. Clever little halfbreed, but not clever enough. Finlor dodged the flailing bodies, trying to keep them between him and the halfbreed for as long as possible, but he still had to shove past the little creature’s arm lodged so firmly in the doorway. At Finlor’s first touch, the halfbreed threw himself at where he thought Finlor was, and actually seized him around the waist, tightening around him like a vice. Finlor used his momentum to smash the mongrel into the carved doorway, loosening the grip around his waist as breath gusted out of the mongrel in a whoosh. Finlor twisted like an eel and drove them both towards a pair of guardsmen who fought in the hall, and the mongrel had to let him go to avoid the wild slashes of the guardsmen’s knives. Finlor shoved him away and dodged through the melee of bewitched guardsmen. Only one guardsman stood between him and free passage._

_How fitting -- this guardsman held the halfbreed’s spawn. If Finlor hadn’t had the mithril box in one hand and the necklace in the other, he would have thought about stabbing them both, or at least the spawn. Perhaps not; that might draw more attention than Finlor wanted. Still, it was proper of him to make one final statement about the overwhelming nature of his victory._

_He kicked the knees out from under the guardsman, then kicked him in the soft, unprotected flesh under his ribs until the spawn rolled free. Yes, that was statement enough, a magnanimous if taunting one, to show that he could have killed both guard and spawn, but hadn’t. Finlor thrust the necklace back in its box and walked away, savoring the halfbreed’s incoherent fury to full measure._

_When Finlor shut the door of his quarters behind him, he leaned against it to gloat. He hadn’t enjoyed himself so much in ages. He tossed the mithril box onto the nearest chair, unbuttoned his tunic and slipped it off –_

_His sleeve was slashed. The damned halfbreed had managed to get his blade on him again!_

_Finlor yanked off his ring of invisibility even before he got his other arm out of his tunic. This time, the mongrel had left more than a mere slash – a large part of the front hem on one side was completely sliced free, and underneath it his leggings were gashed, revealing a long, shallow cut that traced from hipbone halfway to his knee. So much adrenaline had surged through him, so much delight, that he’d never felt the knife’s touch before now._

_His elation died in an instant, replaced just as swiftly with fury. That wretched halfbreed had marked him again, ruining more of his favored fuligin – this time, both tunic and leggings! How dare he!_

_That abomination would pay for this affront. If Finlor had noticed his damaged clothing sooner, he would have stabbed the halfbreed’s spawn in apt payment as he’d originally considered. He’d be sure to venture that close to the spawn again. When he did, he wouldn’t be so magnanimous._

 

* * *

 

I couldn’t see. Between fighting the thief and screaming after him, I’d run out of breath, and my sight went grey. I didn’t want to see, not the body of my bairn sprawled face down on the polished stone floor, next to the guard who hadn’t been able to protect her.

That fucking monster of a thief had killed my child out of spite, out of malice, out of evil, just because he could. He’d come on her and her protector unseen, and instead of taking his prize and leaving, he’d killed two people without defenses simply because he could.

I would not rest until I found him, and I would throttle the life out of him with my bare hands until he died as swiftly as I could make it happen. He’d killed my daughter! He’d killed Míriel, my little Miri –

Arms caught me as I sank to my knees, howling. I thrust them away, and stumbled to where Míriel lay, still screaming howling wailing. I gathered her into my arms, my howls dying only when I ran out of breath again –

The smallest cry hiccupped from the tiny body in my arms. When I opened my eyes, Míriel’s frightened face looked up at me. Her eyes were wide and swam in tears, but those tears were a blessing because they meant she was alert and recognized me. My Míriel was alive.

“Oh, blessed Valar, my most humble thanks to you!” I rasped. “Oh, Valar, Miri! Valar, Valar, Valar! You’re alive! Tada is here, Miri, I’m here! Oh, Valar, I can’t believe you’re alive!”

Tauriel was beside me now, one hand on my shoulder and the other on Míriel’s head. “Oh, Miri, are you hurt, little one? Let us see, sweet one...”

I didn’t want to let Míriel go. I wanted the comfort of her body in my arms, to feel her weight and smell her hair and hear her voice. I never wanted to let her go.

“Please, _amrâlimê_ ,” Tauriel’s voice sank softly into me. “Let us make sure Míriel is not hurt. Please.”

I didn’t want to let her go. I didn’t. But to make sure Míriel was safe, I did. I put her into Tauriel’s lap, and together we felt our daughter’s arms and legs to make sure she hadn’t broken anything. Míriel was still reeling from her sudden fall, but finally started to cry. She wasn’t hurt, only shocked and badly frightened, but with both Tauriel and me beside her, she soon calmed. Tauriel enfolded our babe in her arms to reassure herself as I had had to do, and I put my arms around the two of them.

Only then did the chaos around us register. The Elves had stopped fighting among themselves – clearly, the bastard had unleashed the dragon’s cursed necklace on us – and Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and King Thranduil moved among the groaning bodies assessing how badly everyone had been hurt. Blood splattered the floor where blades had met flesh, and moans of pain tortured the air. The guardsman who had held Míriel still lay outstretched, either dead or unconscious. I crawled to his side to find out which, relieved when I realized that it was the latter. As he roused, I checked his eyes, and found the egg-sized lump on the back of his head that revealed why he’d been unconscious. I told him to stay flat because I thought he likely had a concussion. I moved to the next nearest Elf, this one suffering a gash in her side that bled profusely. I tore open her tunic to find a long gash across her belly under her ribs, but I didn’t think it had penetrated her body cavity, so tore off the bottom of her tunic to stuff into the wound.

“I need a field healer!” I croaked. “This maid’s bleeding faster than I can stop it!”

Lord Elrond appeared swiftly on the other side of the injured Elf. “I have her, Kíli. Hold the silk in place for me.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve got it.”

“Was Míriel injured?”

“Not for lack of trying,” I whispered with the shreds of my voice. “I’m going to kill that fucker, anyway, and that’s a promise.”

“We have work to do first,” Lord Elrond counseled, his hands busy over the injured Elf’s wound. Behind me, Tauriel snapped orders to uninjured guardsmen to fetch healers and bandages. “We have many injured who need our help.”

“They’ll have it. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

“I can tend Lirion myself. See who else is in need of aid, and do what you can.”

“Yes, sir. I will.”

I eased my hands from the gash in Lirion’s belly, and craned my neck to see who else needed help. A guardsman with a broken leg was propped against the wall, his arm protectively around Míriel while Tauriel tended another gashed Elf beside the door. I checked three more Elves, all with minor wounds that could wait for treatment. The fourth, however, was likely mortally wounded, so deep was the wound in his chest. Air gusted in and out of it – it had penetrated his lung. I put my hand over the wound to keep air from flowing, hoping his lung hadn’t already collapsed.

“Puncture to the lung here!” I called, but my voice wasn’t much. “Somebody, punctured lung here!”

Someone fell to his knees beside me. I grabbed his hand, pressed it down over the hole, and tore open the tunic fastenings. “Keep your hand tight over that until I can get his tunic off. That’ll keep the lung inflated. _Dahaut_ , I can’t see if he’s got other wounds for all the blood –”

I swiped the tunic across the Elf’s chest to clear the blood, then realized he wasn’t breathing. I felt for a pulse on his neck. None. I wiped his chest again so I could feel for a pulse there. That’s when I saw the second puncture right over his heart.

“He’s gone.” I sat back, my throat tight as I shut his eyes. “ _Gaugaz al Valar aya lieb, khuzi_.”

I shoved away from the dead Elf, found the next one. She was also dead, so I offered the same poor grace, and moved on. Finally, a maid who still breathed! The same Elf who’d been with me for the two dead Elves was still beside me, and together we reset the maid’s dislocated shoulder. I took off my belt to strap her arm to her chest, and looked for the next one, but blessedly there were no more left untended. I sat back panting.

“Oh, Valar,” I whispered, shutting my eyes.

“I am glad that your daughter is unharmed. And I thank you for tending so many of my guardsmen.”

I looked up. The Elf who’d been beside me was King Thranduil. He had blood on his hands and robes, but none of it seemed to be his own. Maybe his face was pale, but to me he always looked pale. I managed to nod acceptance. I was still trying to swallow my terror at the violence that had come so close to Míriel. Then I remembered that the king was a father, too.

“Legolas... he is well, too, I hope,” I graveled.

The king nodded. “What was it that you said over those who died?”

I mustered the rags of my voice. “ _Gaugaz al Valar aya lieb, khuzi._ It means the blessings of the Valar upon you, warrior. It’s what my folk say on the field of battle to honor the dead.”

“You honor my folk, then.”

I waved at the hallway. “In truth, my lord, I don’t know which were Woodland Realm or Imladris. It was just all of us against that...”

“ _Húna um hando_. Accursed agent of evil.”

“That’s gentler than what I called him. Gentle isn’t what I’ll be when I find him, either.”

“The time for gentleness is past,” King Thranduil said softly, but his tone was as brittle as ice and twice as deadly cold. “The Men of Esgaroth have an expression. I believe they would say that the time is come to get the rat bastard.”

His gaze flicked over me. His jaw was set, and his eyes were hard as he looked over the injured Elves. He got to his feet, and went to Lord Elrond. I scrambled after him, determined to be part of whatever they planned.

“We must find the thief quickly,” Lord Elrond said, looking towards Gandalf who still crouched beside one of the wounded Elves.

“Agreed,” King Thranduil growled. “I’m ordering the guard to summon everyone who attended today’s luncheon. Someone there might have seen the thief as Rhiannel did, or might recognize him from our description. We need his true name.”

“I suggest you also summon those from supper,” Lord Elrond said. “I sensed the presence of those instruments of magic we discussed at both meals. You plan to interview these folk yourself, I gather?”

The king nodded.

“I will accompany you to ask about those instruments. By one avenue or another, we will have that name.”

I went forward. “When you have it, and we know where he’s hiding, send me after him. The necklace doesn’t affect me, and I’ve marked him twice. I won’t miss the third time, invisible or not.”

“You will not go alone,” Lord Elrond replied. I’d never heard the high lord’s voice fall as low before, or sound almost as soulless and cold as the king’s.

“No,” the king agreed. “You will not.”

The lords moved away to set about their grim business, drawing Tauriel after them. I had time to assure her that I’d see to Míriel before the three of them swept off with Previl, Legolas, and Gandalf in tow. I gladly took Míriel into my arms, thanked the injured guardsman for staying with her, and then ventured back into our room, looking for the rest of the Orc Spawn. Giriel was on her knees beside the fallen Tethrandil, pressing her hand against his shoulder. Lindir sat nearby, looking stricken.

“I am so ashamed,” Lindir gulped, looking up at me with wide, unblinking eyes. “I stabbed Teth. I stabbed him as if he were nothing but an Orc. How could I have done that?”

“It was the necklace,” Giriel said. I suspected that she’d already told Lindir that several times already, but our friend could not yet take comfort in her words. “It wasn’t you, Lindir. None of this was any part of us. It was that cursed necklace.”

“It was the fucking bastard who used the necklace,” I graveled, kneeling beside Teth with Míriel. “How badly is Teth hurt?”

“A good thrust, but it hit nothing vital, and needs only a few stitches. I’m trying to keep Teth awake until we can stitch him, then healing trance should be the only other thing he needs.”

“I will heal quickly, Lindir,” Teth said. “Do not worry.”

“I’ll sit with you, Teth. I’m so sorry.”

“I do not blame you, Lindir. Be at ease.”

“Where’s Rhiannel?” I asked, looking around. “Is he hurt?”

“Seeing to the other wounded,” Giriel replied. “He’s fine. Miri’s unhurt?”

I gulped. “I thought she was dead. The bastard attacked her guard, and she fell, but she’s all right. Just scared.”

“We have four wounded here. How many others outside?” Lindir asked.

I shook my head. “At least two dead. I saw to eight others, but there are more hurt than I tended. Broken leg, dislocated shoulder, several blade wounds. Very few of us escaped injury.”

Giriel muttered something in Orcish under her breath. “Of course we didn’t. There’s not a guardsman in Imladris or the Woodland Realm who isn’t good enough to kill. And so we did.”

“And so I will when I find that motherless _kurvanog nar thos_.”

“I’ll be right there beside you,” Giriel growled. “That _saukarya kurv_ kissed my hand after he took the diadem out of my hands. Arrogant bastard! I’ll cut his hand off for that.”

“I will be with you, too,” Lindir added. There was a hardness in his voice that I hadn’t heard before. That was what war did to anyone caught in it, and this was war, no matter if it were a small one.

“So will I,” Teth whispered. “A few stitches or not.”

We stayed huddled together beside Teth until the Woodland Realm healers came, and both Giriel and I were put to work stitching minor wounds. Once Lindir helped me tend to Teth, he took Míriel to stay with him and Teth while I moved to others who needed help.

If I thought about how little time it had taken for the dreamflower necklace to ravage twenty-four guardsmen, a high lord, a king, a wizard, and a babe, I saw red. If I thought about how much longer it had taken to tend our wounded, I grew too angry to keep my stitches even. If I thought about how many years it would take to fully mourn the two Elves who had died so uselessly, I wanted to call blood feud and charge after the one who’d hurt us.

But that would have left my comrades to suffer more than they had already, so I didn’t think of any of those things. I stitched and bandaged and helped however I could. However... once Lord Elrond and King Thranduil found out the name of our thief – and I had no doubt that they would, by whatever means were needed to do so – then I would think about the harm done to us.

Then I would see to the owner of that name.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Our intrepid band struggles to draw a bead on our vicious thief. When Tauriel and Lord Elrond play good cop, bad cop with a flitter-wit, the case starts to break. Welcome to Woodland Realm Dragnet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Kurvanog dath = fucking right

_Slowly, Finlor’s rage calmed. Yes, his elegant fuligin clothes had been ruined. But while he’d lost garments tonight, he’d also gained a prize. What sort of prize was it?_

_He found his suede bag still caught in the folds of his slashed tunic. He carried it to his worktable, drew the lamp close, and eased out the diadem he’d snatched out of the blond maid’s hand. Yes, oh, yes, the design was of a match to the dreamflower necklace. What a beautiful set the pair made, to frame a maid’s face so beautifully between sprays of Lothlórien’s special blossom. So the set had once belonged to the Lady Galadriel who led the Lothlórien Elves with her consort Celeborn. He savored possessing something that had touched the brow of that lady..._

_What was this? He’d been so enraptured by the thought of holding something that the highest of Elf maids treasured that he hadn’t properly considered the magic aura emanating from the diadem. This was a powerful talisman – so powerful that at first he was suspicious. It was not conceivable that he held something so powerful in his hands. He’d expected to find this on the hand of either the wizard or the high lord. Was this from the lady of Lothlórien, then? Surely she would not have been so foolish as to send it so far from her guardianship?_

_Finlor pulled his lamp closer still and gave the diadem a harder look. Just what had fallen into his hands?_

 

* * *

 

After Míriel had taken such a hard spill, it was hard to leave her. We both needed the comfort of each other’s company, to be sure. But at least she was with Kíli and our friends, so I hurried after King Thranduil and Lord Elrond as they’d bade me. Ahead, Legolas and Previl had opened doors to another guest suite, and Gandalf kept pace beside me as the six of us swept inside. The wizard’s hands were still bloody from tending our comrades – all six of us were so marked, mute evidence of the terrible carnage behind us.

The king turned to us. “I want a list of everyone who attended the court luncheon and supper today. Legolas, Tauriel, the three of us will provide the names of those we recall, then both of you and Previl will each take a patrol to personally escort all those so listed here. In the interest of time and need, Tauriel, consider yourself as part of the Woodland Realm guard reporting to Legolas. Legolas, make clear to the guard that they are to defer to her as her previous rank deserved. Tell those you escort that they will remain here until I deem otherwise. Make sure that they see our wounded, to reinforce the seriousness of our inquiry.”

“My lord,” I bowed, as did Legolas and Previl.

Gandalf swept forward. The wizard looked as grey as his robes. “Tell each of them,” he growled, “to bring every piece of jewelry in their possession with them. Without exception.”

“Indeed,” said the king with a sharp look at Legolas, Previl, and me. “Make sure that those you collect understand how displeased I will be if they overlook the slightest piece.”

In just a few moments, we made a list of the names everyone remembered, and Legolas and Previl headed off to the guardroom. I detoured briefly to my old rooms in the king’s apartments to exchange Giriel’s elegant trappings for one of my old duty uniforms, then hurried down to the guardroom. How surreal it was to clothe myself in that uniform again, and return to the domain where I’d served for so many hundreds of years, as if I’d never left. It was even stranger to greet so many old acquaintances again. Legolas and Previl explained our task, we divided the names between our three patrols, and we set off without delay.

Several of the maids I’d known for many decades clustered around me as we walked. “Tauriel,” one called, her hand on my arm. “We’re so happy to see you! How is it that you’re serving with us again? I thought you were part of Lord Elrond’s company. Are you back for good? Are you well?”

“Ormiel! I am glad to see you again – all of you! I am well, and yes, I am part of Lord Elrond’s company. It is good to have the chance to serve with you again, if only briefly.”

“What is this about, then?”

“We need information as swiftly as we can find it. Because I served here for so long, the king as well as Lord Elrond enlisted my help, and I am honored to give it. Come, we must work quickly.”

We moved through the cavern residences at speed, drawing the folk we sought out and escorting groups of them with their boxes and caskets of jewels to the king. Many Elves were already gathered in the guest suite, and as we delivered our charges, my patrol was given the names of more folk to bring forth. As we delivered the last of them, I felt their shock as they passed the splashes of blood on the floor and the rows of wounded Elves resting on pallets. No, there was no dark haired, dark eyed Elf among those gathered, not that I expected to see one, but the injury done to us was so horrible that I would not overlook any possibility, no matter how improbable.

I was quickly drawn into interviewing a procession of the gathered Elves. The king’s tactic to lead them past our injured had the desired effect – most were frightened, subdued, and more than willing to offer their cooperation. Few of the delicate flitter-wits flittered, and even fewer of their languid escorts draped themselves so elegantly on their chairs as I plied them with my questions. If anything, most of them fumbled to answer me quickly.

“Name? Did you attend the court luncheon today? No? Supper, then? Yes? Name everyone you can remember who also attended supper. Do you know an Elf who has very dark hair and eyes, who favors fuligin clothing?”

And so it went, Elf after Elf. Lord Elrond and Gandalf moved among the lines of Elves, but I didn’t know what they searched for until Lord Elrond paused to regard the maid I spoke to and look into her open jewelry casket.

 “Where did you get the amethyst ring you wear?” the high lord asked without preamble. His voice was soft, but his gaze was direct and firm, brooking no dissembling.

“My... ring?” the maid faltered. “What’s wrong with my ring?”

“Please answer Lord Elrond, Jancinel,” I prodded her quietly. “This is very important, and you do our folk a service to answer us as fully as you can.”

“It’s... just a ring,” she swallowed, eyes darting between Lord Elrond and me.

“No,” Lord Elrond shook his head, drawing out the word. “It is not.”

Under the high lord’s concentrated stare, Jancinel’s resistance crumbled. “It’s... it’s just a bit of glamour, to help me at court.”

“In what way does it help you?”

She looked about her helplessly. “To hold my own. To be one of the jewels.”

“The jewels?”

“The favored ones. The maids who are the most admired.”

“Where did you get it?”

“A friend got it for me.”

“Who?”

“She’ll be so angry if I tell you.”

“And King Thranduil will be very, very angry if you do not,” I snapped. “Why would your friend not want you to tell us?”

“Because then everyone will know where we got them, and then they’ll want one, too, and then we’ll seem no better than everyone else at court.”

Lord Elrond’s face never wavered, but I knew this was not the first time he’d heard this story tonight. “King Thranduil and I would be most grateful if you would tell us what you know.”

Jancinel swallowed again. “Amroziela sold me the ring. She’d gotten herself another. I don’t know where she got either one.”

“Is Amroziela here?” I asked.

The maid looked around, and pointed to one of the maids I’d sat with at luncheon. “That’s her, with the auburn hair and green dress.”

Lord Elrond held out his hand. He didn’t have to speak. The maid looked as if she was about to cry, but she slipped the ring off and dropped it into Lord Elrond’s hand.

“There’s something wrong with the rings, isn’t there? I knew it. It made me feel good at first, then it made me nervous unless I wore it all the time.”

“It will not bother you again,” Lord Elrond told her. “Please, wait in the next room until we have talked to more folk.”

Jancinel bit her lip unhappily, but got up and hurried away.

“Tauriel, let us talk to this Amroziela next.”

“Yes, my lord,” I replied, and got up to draw the maid out of the waiting crowd.

“Amroziela?” I asked.

“Tauriel! Oh, finally, someone to tell us what this nonsense and inconvenience is all about – ” The maid belatedly took in my guard uniform. Her eyes widened.

“Please, come and sit down.” When the maid had settled, I found Lord Elrond talking lowly to Gandalf. The wizard had the amethyst ring we had confiscated in his hand, hefting it gloomily.

“It’s of a kind with the four I’ve already collected,” the wizard confirmed. “This is more serious than I expected.”

“I expect we shall find many more like them before this is over,” Lord Elrond replied. “Tauriel?”

“I have Amroziela, my lord.”

“Good. Let us see what she can tell us.”

I went through the same litany of questions while Lord Elrond considered the contents of three large jewelry boxes. At luncheon, the maid had not been the most vocal of the group, leaving that to the chattering Niriellen, but she had been one of the slyest. I had known of her before I’d left the Woodland Realm, and she was one of the best examples of why I had preferred to stay away from court functions. Then, as now, I had not enjoyed her subtle digs at others, even those who sat with her. Under the firm regard of the high lord, however, Amroziela was subdued and defensive.

“You sold Maid Jancinel an amethyst ring.”

“Y-yes,” she admitted with reluctance.

“Where did you get this ring?”

“From a jeweler,” she ventured.

“Which one?”

“Oh, he is not a jeweler as you think, Tauriel. He has no shop where he sells pieces to just anyone. He is a friend, and he only dabbles in such things. He makes a few select pieces for his closest friends only.”

“What is his name?” I asked, my voice on edge. When she hesitated, I leaned forward and spoke lowly. “If you prefer not to answer, I understand. You understand, however, that your regard for your friend may well cost you the regard of the king, because I must add your name to the list of those who chose not to answer. The king will review that list shortly. I do not expect that he will view anyone on that list with favor.”

Amroziela’s expression turned poisonous, but I gazed back without reaction. I reached for the paper that had listed the names of those my patrol and I had brought to the king, and added her name to the bottom of it. I looked at Lord Elrond. “I will take this list to King Thranduil, my lord –”

“No! No! Take my name of your list this instant! I never said I wouldn’t cooperate!”

“You are wise, then,” I sat back down. “So, the name of this friend who is a jeweler... what is it?”

“He calls himself Taraer.”

“‘Lofty one?’ Come now, Amroziela,” I sat back with a skeptical expression. “That is not his real name, is it? Describe him, please.”

“Very tall. Black hair, so black it seems to have blue lights in it. His eyes are just as dark.”

“Can you describe any clothing or jewelry he is in the habit of wearing?”

“His clothes are the most beautiful I’ve seen. I have asked and asked for the name of his tailor, but he refuses to tell me.” Amroziela’s poisonous look returned. “Silks and velvets, mostly, all in jewel colors.”

“Does he ever wear black?”

She shook her head. “His favorite colors are deep garnet and sapphire, mostly, though he wears greens and purples, too. I have never seen him in black.”

“Jewelry?”

“I think only a ring or two – no, I saw a pendant once. I asked him what it was. Sardonyx and orange chalcedony, he told me. I do not think he liked that I saw it, because he tucked it back into his tunic. He usually wore an amethyst ring cut like a flower, or a cabochon emerald.”

“He frequents the court, then?

“Oh, not the formal court...” she hesitated.

“The shadow court, then,” I inferred. At Lord Elrond’s frown, I explained, “The shadow court moves among a handful of salons. That is where a few Elves from the court with more influence than scruples allow those of lesser standing to pursue their favor. Amroziela is one such host.”

Amroziela glared to hear herself so crassly described. “There is nothing wrong with hosting a gathering!”

“That depends on whether you are the host, or the attendees who discover that all their expensive trinkets have gained them is an afternoon of gossip containing more venom than substance,” I said waspishly. “Did this Elf attend your gatherings?”

“I cannot remember.”

I was in no mood to waste more time with this tiresome maid. “I hope your poor memory is a comfort to those whose friends died tonight. I know it offers great comfort to the one who caused those deaths, one who remains free to inflict more havoc because you protect him with your silence. That is not stubbornness. That is treason, and has earned you attendance to an exclusive gathering in the king’s cells, during which time perhaps your poor memory will recover.” I waved the nearest healthy guardsman closer. “Hamir, take Maid Amroziela down to the cells until the king can consider her lack of cooperation –”

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” Amroziela gasped, panicking as Hamir took her arm. “I never said I would not cooperate! I did not!”

“Then cooperate. Tell me about this Elf. Now.”

“I will tell you. I will. He attends only a few of the shadow court gatherings, only the most exclusive. He understands how important it is to present well at court. He offers advice to attract the right regard, the right patronage, the right alliances. For a very select few, he offers more than advice.”

“The rings that cast a glamour.”

Amroziela started. “You know about the rings? How can you? He does not make them for just anyone. Only a very select few.”

I snorted much like my husband. “Only a very select few? We have already collected a basketful in this room alone. You will have to add yours to the basket, of course. They are contraband.”

“They are contra – how dare you? Do you know how much it cost me to get this?”

“How dares your friend, you should say,” I retorted. “He has taken your high price from half the Elves in this room alone. That sounds far from a very select few to me.”

The maid muttered something that was at great odds with her wispy and ethereal appearance, but I didn’t laugh.

“Is it easier to give me his true name now?”

“Finlor,” Amroziela spat. “His name is Finlor.”

I held out my hand. “The ring.”

The maid hesitated, but Lord Elrond’s stern regard soon had her wiggling the ring off her hand and thrusting it unceremoniously into mine. I handed it to the high lord, who immediately rose and went to the king. In the corner of my eye, I saw Previl and Lindir hurry out. They would descend upon the records hall, looking for this Finlor in the residence rolls. I flicked my gaze back to Amroziela, barely able to summon a civil word to dismiss her.

“Wait in the next room.”

The maid vacillated between fury and fear badly enough that she didn’t spit at me. Perhaps she realized that doing so would earn her that sojourn in the cells. Perhaps she also realized that I would see that a few days passed before anyone knew that she was there, in hopes that her stay would curb her vitriol. But perhaps nothing could achieve that.

I got up to fetch the next waiting Elf and his box of jewels. This time Gandalf attended me, which made for a much shorter interview. I had only to say that any delay or inaccuracy in answering would provoke the wizard to turn the Elf under question into a toad, and answers flowed as swiftly as a flood-wracked river. Very quickly, we collected another handful of pretty trinkets, all different in design from plain to most intricate, but most favored yellow, green, or white gold set with amethysts, sapphires, or rubies. During a lull, I found Kíli looking at the confiscated pieces with Lord Elrond.

“Yes, the designs are all different, but they’re all made by the same hand,” my husband was saying. “Look at the backs, under the gems. Ring, brooch, or necklace, they all have a tiny chamber underneath. The only thing I’ve seen like that is a cache ring. The setting for the stone hinges open to reveal a tiny chamber underneath. You put something innocuous in there, like a love note or perfume, but I’ve heard of them being used to hold poison, too.”

“None of these pieces have the hinged setting,” Lord Elrond observed.

Kíli nodded. “They don’t. But each one has the chamber. I’d guess that they’re all hollow, because each one is sealed very subtly with a drop of gold that matches the setting. It’s a tiny hole, so I’d guess you could put only a liquid inside, or maybe a very fine powder.”

“There must be something inside, if someone went to the trouble of making the chambers and sealing them so carefully,” I said.

“That’s what I think, too,” Kíli said.

“I’ll show this to Thranduil and Gandalf,” Lord Elrond exhaled. “In the meantime, Tauriel, please continue to talk to the remaining Elves. Gandalf has ferreted out the same name, but we need to collect as many of these pieces as possible.”

As he moved away, Kíli grabbed my arm. “You’ve got a name?”

I nodded. “Previl and Lindir are in the records hall now.”

“What is it?”

The light in Kíli’s eyes was not gleeful or mischievous. It was deep rage, barely contained. I felt a similar burn in my heart, but it paled next to Kíli’s. He had behaved so well since we’d reached the Woodland Realm that it was easy to forget that his Dwarvish fire burned as hotly as it did. As much as I wanted to loose that fire on our enemy, I didn’t want to until I was sure it would hit the proper target. So I put my hands on Kíli’s shoulders.

“When we know that it is the right name, and we know where its owner lies, I will tell you. Then I will go with you to make sure that he never touches Míriel again.”

Kíli swallowed hard, but he nodded in understanding. “Only promise me that you will tell me. No matter what a king or a high lord or a wizard or a prince tells you.”

“You have my word.”

He put his hands on mine. “All right. I’ll keep hold of myself until then. I make no promises after.”

“Done.”

Somehow, both of us went back to our tasks. Gandalf returned to speed us through the last several Elves, collecting another dozen rings and a pair of brooches. We truly did need a basket by the time we’d sent the last Elf into the other rooms to wait. The wizard and I rejoined Lord Elrond, King Thranduil, and Kíli who oversaw the collection of jewelry.

“I understand why I could not identify the source of the magic,” Lord Elrond exhaled, looking at the sizeable pile. “There was simply too much of it scattered too widely. There must be two hundred pieces here.”

King Thranduil regarded the pile with a combination of anger and uncertainty. “Kíli explained that each one of these pieces has a small chamber. I’ve sent for tools so that he may open one to learn what is inside. Ah, Legolas, you have the tools. Good. Kíli, if you would, please?”

“Do you have a mithril box I can put the opened piece in, just in case?” my husband asked.

“I’ve got one you can use,” Legolas said, and ran off to fetch it. While we waited for him, Kíli cleared space on the stone floor, explaining that the stone would make a better insulator than the wood of any table, and he laid out a square of leather on which to lay the piece of jewelry. He chose a brooch because it would be easier to open than a ring, and when Legolas returned, he knelt on the floor to position a small awl and hammer. The box lay beside him, close at hand.

“I’ll make only the smallest hole, just so one of you adepts can get a good sniff of what’s inside,” Kíli explained. “Ready?”

We all held our breaths, but Kíli’s blow was so delicate that it hardly registered. Neither was there any reaction to his blow. After a few seconds, he took up the brooch gingerly, sniffed, and shook his head.

“Nothing that I can tell. If one of you Elves would risk a look, or Gandalf, maybe you can make something out better than I can.”

King Thranduil squatted beside Kíli, and ventured a look. He didn’t have to sniff before he grimaced. “Dragon’s blood. Just a drop, and it’s been altered. Altered twice, I should say. Once to turn the dragon’s glamour to attract the attention of others to the wearer. The second is much subtler, and more insidious. It’s to draw the wearer’s attention back to the maker. The one who made the brooch.”

Gandalf bent close for his own examination. “The piece itself embodies the craft we expected, though it is weak. But with the addition of dragon’s blood, each one is an insidious device, indeed. It is good that we have collected so many of these perversions. I still feel the presence of others, so there are more within the cavern that we have not collected. But the air is clearer.” He glanced at Lord Elrond. “Can you sense the diadem, too?”

For a moment, Lord Elrond turned within as if listening. He shook his head. “It does not surprise me that you are better able to sense the diadem, Mithrandir. It is attuned more to you than to me.”

“Sense of it will grow stronger as we approach it,” Gandalf muttered. “Have Previl and Lindir returned from the records hall yet? Delay is our worst enemy.”

“I’ll see if I can help them,” Legolas volunteered, and ran off. He was gone only a few moments when he returned with the king’s captain and Lord Elrond’s aide. They came to us immediately.

“Was he listed in the rolls?” the king demanded.

“He was,” Previl nodded. “Lindir found him. And we know where he is.”

“What’s his name?” Kíli demanded. “I want to know his name.”

Previl looked to the king, who didn’t hesitate to meet Kíli’s gaze. “His name is Finlor. I believe it is time for us to introduce ourselves to him in person.”

Kíli stood up, knife in hand. “ _Kurvanog dath_.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Let the mayhem begin! Our intrepid band may have the drop on Finlor at first, but you knew the wretched alchemist/thief/murderer would have some very nasty tricks up his sleeve, didn't you?
> 
> Take a deep breath. The first part of the pursuit is on!

_The three rings that Celebrimbor had forged independently of Sauron’s help had been so superbly crafted that no living smith remained who could have reformed or recast them and still preserved their power. Finlor was sure of that, because the master Elf smith had refused to reveal much of his craft to anyone. Finlor had tried everything to divine the master’s secrets, even rifling his notes the one time he’d managed a peek. If only he had had more than a few seconds, how easy it would have been to let slip an observation here, and an insight there, which would have made Celebrimbor eager to embrace him as an equal. But that had not happened. The master’s secrecy and stubbornness had earned him no friends, only a torturous death at the hands of his enemies. If he’d been more open, perhaps he would have embraced salvation at Sauron’s side, and together they would have gone on to more great achievements._

_Finlor might not have learned all he’d craved about ring lore, but he knew enough to recognize that this diadem was not all it seemed. He knew the feel, the aura of true power, and this diadem reeked of it. But it could not embody it in and of itself. It had to be a shell, a pretty container to a power within._

_He turned over the diadem in his hands. It was a light and delicate thing, just as its matching necklace was. How could it hide anything within its thin, curling gold wire or its delicate leaves and petals?_

_That central flower, with its cluster of seven adamants, some of the most perfect ones he’d ever seen... the mounts for those adamants mimicked the dreamflower center exactly, and was so delicately made that his lamplight shone through the back, making the adamants sparkle and glimmer. Nothing obscured the light of the gems._

_But the edge of the thin gold that held the gems, where it was so expertly soldered to the petals..._

_Finlor found a magnifying lens, and focused it on the central dreamflower..._

 

* * *

 

“We must take precautions before we track our enemy to his lair!” Lord Elrond barked.

His voice held none of its usual calm, measured tones. No, it was stern, abrupt, and barely controlled, as if he cautioned himself as well as the rest of us. His body was taut with the same tension that wracked mine, the urgency that drove every sight hound wild when the quarry was in sight but the leash had yet to be slipped. The difference between us, maybe, was that he was far wiser than I, and better able to reason in the face of his anger. I was a much more volatile Dwarf. On top of that, my anger wasn’t just anger. It was all encompassing fury, because my enemy had attacked my daughter for no reason other than malice.

“What for?” I snarled. “There are enough of us to take him apart, no matter how much magical _dahaut_ he has with him!”

“No, Kíli,” Lord Elrond put a restraining hand on my shoulder. “He waits to use our fury against us. We have already seen how much pleasure he derives from our anger and suffering. We cannot continue to feed his pleasure. We must meet him with icy calculation instead.”

“How?” I held out my hands. “What else can we do but track him to his lair and dig him out?”

“We will do both of those things. But we must prepare first.” Lord Elrond swallowed hard. None of our Imladris colleagues had died in the melee, but he grieved for the two Woodland Elves who had, and for all the folk who had suffered so horribly at our own hands. He turned to King Thranduil.

“Our wounded are in good hands for now, and the guard will watch the Elves we summoned. Let us plan swiftly, and then strike.”

The king nodded. “The rule is yours, Lord Elrond, and I am with you. What do you wish us to do first?”

“A swift council, first. You, Gandalf, Legolas, Kíli, Tauriel, Previl, Helmia, Lindir, and Tethrandil, if he is able to walk.”

What did he want with Tethrandil? Still, Tauriel and I volunteered to bring our fellow Orc Spawn. The rest of the folk that Lord Elrond named gathered at one of the tables where we had previously interviewed Elves while my wife and I found Teth. Rhiannel and Giriel were with him, and he was sitting up now. He was as surprised as I was to hear of Lord Elrond’s summons, but he got his feet quickly enough, without too much of a wince.

“What about Rhiannel and me?” Giriel asked, rising, too. “Can we come?”

“He didn’t ask for you,” I said shortly, but it was just our thief that made me angry, not my friends. Giriel understood.

“He didn’t say I couldn’t prop our injured friend up in his chair,” she said, with a look at Rhiannel. “He might need to be propped up on the other side, too.”

“Of course,” Rhiannel nodded, but he didn’t smile. No one was in the mood for joking. He and Giriel duly flanked Teth as we returned to the council.

“Good, Tethrandil. I’m pleased to see you up. How fit are you?”

“Whatever you need from me, you have,” our white-haired Orc Spawn replied steadily, “short of full combat. I have limited use of my left arm.”

“That should be enough,” Lord Elrond nodded. “I seek to counter every advantage the thief has, and confound him as much as possible.

“First, we must seal the cavern doors to the outside. We must not let this thief escape with his treasures.”

“I will have that done now,” King Thranduil said, gesturing to Previl, who ran off calling to a few of his subordinates.

“Good. Second, the necklace is the thief’s greatest asset, and our greatest danger. Kíli and Gandalf, because the necklace affects neither of you, your focus is to take the necklace from him.

“Third, once we have the necklace, we must stop the its effect on us. We must take with us as many mithril containers of a size to contain the necklace, so that whoever gains it can seal it inside.

“Fourth, we must regain the diadem at all costs. All of us must make that our goal.

“Fifth, we have seen that this thief has no hesitation to attack those important to us. Tauriel, Giriel, and Rhiannel, I ask you to see to Míriel. Your youth makes you vulnerable to the necklace, and if the thief escapes our first attack, he may seek to wreak the greatest harm he can.

“Sixth, if cornered, the thief may try to attack Thranduil and me. Lindir and I share the same hair color and eyes. The same is true of Thranduil and Tethrandil. To confuse him, Lindir and I will dress as identically as possible. Thranduil and Teth, you will do the same. In the heat of a struggle, a second’s hesitation about who his target is may be vital.

“Seventh, we must be as ruthless in pursuing this thief as he has been in plaguing us. We know that he will not hesitate to strike at anyone and everyone to maintain his advantages. So Legolas, Previl, and Helmia, as leaders of our guardsmen, you will deploy the guard as you see fit to protect our folk, and to help all who are hurt. Those of us who are in the foray party must leave these tasks to the guard, and hold our focus on the thief. No matter what he does, no matter how many of us fall by the way, the rest must not turn aside. If you cannot agree to this, I ask you to step aside and let another take your place.”

No one demurred. King Elrond had expected no less, but he nodded thanks nevertheless. “The line of command for the foray party is me, Thranduil, Gandalf, Kíli, Teth, and Lindir. If all of us fall, Legolas, it comes to you.”

We nodded soberly.

“I ask you all to trust and obey each other instantly, without reservation,” the high lord stressed. “We must hold together against this... no, I will not call him a mere thief any longer. He is a murderer, and we will treat him as such.”

 _“Vras thrug,”_ I growled.

“‘Kill the murderer,’” Giriel translated, sticking her hand out. “That’s the battle cry for me, Orc Spawn.”

I put my hand on Giriel’s, and my friends were quick to add theirs. I was gratified when Lord Elrond added his, then Legolas and Helmia. The hand on the top of the pile was Thranduil’s, and his eyes met mine as I nodded in appreciation.

“ _Vras thrug_ ,” we chorused.

The time for planning was done. Thranduil swept off with Tethrandil to get our friend reclothed, and Lord Elrond and Lindir did likewise. Legolas took several guardsmen into the room holding the Elves we questioned to round up as many mithril boxes as he could find. Tauriel stayed with Míriel while the rest of us ran back to our rooms to shed our dress finery for garb worthy of a fight. When we ran back, I brought Tauriel’s cuirass, vambraces, and greaves to her, as well as her sword and matched knives. I had my light Elvish leaf mail, every knife I possessed, and my Elvish longsword. I carried my bow and quiver and Tauriel’s, in the off chance that our fight would extend to some of the more open parts of the cavern. I hoped the fight wouldn’t go on that long. If we could take the bastard in his rooms, that would be a blessing.

I knew in my heart that we wouldn’t take him so easily.

The foray party was ready, waiting only for the two Elf lords and their doubles. Legolas had sent a dozen of the eldest and wisest guardsmen to accompany us who might better resist the pull of poisonous dragon gold. I took advantage of those few seconds to kiss my wife and my daughter.

“Keep each other safe,” I said, handing my bow and quiver to Giriel who stood beside Tauriel with Rhiannel. “Here, Giriel. I’m to get close to the bastard, so I won’t get a chance to use this, but you might. Don’t overlook anything, any of you. Just stay safe. Miri, my little jewel, give your Tada a kiss.”

Míriel pressed her lips against my cheek, which was as far as she’d gotten towards figuring out what a kiss was, but it was enough. Tauriel pressed her kiss on my other cheek.

“My heart to yours, _a’maelamin_ ,” she murmured, squeezing my shoulders.

“And mine to yours, _amrâlimê_. I’ll see you when this is done.”

“I take that as a promise.”

I gave her a smile, and made my way to join the foray party. When I looked back, she put her hand to her heart, and then held it out to me. I returned the gesture, and then she, Giriel, and Rhiannel took Míriel join Legolas.

I put my wife and child out of my mind as I checked my armor and weapons again. Before I was done, King Thranduil returned with Teth in tow. I blinked in surprise; clad in nearly identical black leathers, the pair did look very alike. Teth even had a mate to the king’s distinctive steel sword, and a silver diadem to hold his hair back. On their heels, Lord Elrond and Lindir joined us, both clad in burgundy riding leathers and mail shoulder mantles. Lindir was two inches shorter than the high lord and his face was narrower, but in the confusion of battle, the differences might not seem so obvious.

“Let us go,” Lord Elrond said simply.

Gandalf and I fell in behind the Woodland guardsman who would take us most of the way to Finlor’s apartments. The Elf lords and their doubles followed behind, and the dozen guardsmen brought up the rear. We traversed the corridors and public spaces in silence, all of us except Gandalf with drawn blades, but the wizard had his staff firmly in hand. After some minutes, the guardsman leading us slowed.

“Finlor has the apartments on the left hand side of the next corridor. The second and third doors on the left.”

“The diadem is within,” Gandalf said in a strained voice.

“I feel it as well,” Lord Elrond confirmed.

“Is the corridor a dead end?” I asked, but the guard shook his head. “Where does the other end of the corridor lead?”

“Further into the caverns.”

I looked at Gandalf. “Can you break down doors with your magic?”

His glare was baleful, but it wasn’t directed at me. “I’ll make an exception this time.”

That coaxed a fierce grin out of me, but it was likely as nasty an expression as the wizard’s was. It faded as I turned to Lord Elrond. “If we send half the guardsmen past the two doors, then Gandalf and I break the doors down, we might trap the bastard between us.”

“Do so.”

Six of the guardsmen filed past me silently, then Lindir and King Thranduil. I moved to the second door after them. When Gandalf was in position with Lord Elrond, Teth, and the remaining six guardsmen poised at his back, I nodded to him.

 

* * *

 

_Finlor’s eyes widened when the warning lamp suddenly sparked brightly. Someone was at the door at this hour? He put the dreamflower diadem down, flitted to the door, and peered through the crystal eye port. The grey wizard stood without? How had he tracked Finlor here? How had he tracked him at all, much less so quickly? He must have sensed the diadem – that was the only explanation. Finlor armed his way into his fuligin tunic, grabbed the mithril box from the chair where he’d so carelessly thrown it, crammed the diadem down his tunic, and thrust daggers in his boots and up his sleeves. Where was his ring of invisibility? There! He grabbed it and jammed it onto his finger, scraping the knuckle until it bled. Then he fled to the back of his chambers to yank open the door of a small closet. Behind him, both doors to the outside corridor burst open and disintegrated into kindling. He eased the closet door closed behind him, and groped for the trap door in the floor._

 

* * *

 

Gandalf and I breached the doors. I did it the mundane way – a well-placed kick with a heavy Dwarf boot shattered the lock, then an armored shoulder broke the cracked wood around the lock into splinters. Gandalf must have used his magic, as his door burst open in a single blow, accompanied by a substantial flash and bang worthy of his fireworks. He’d done that before, down in the wretched Goblintown when he’d freed Uncle Thorin’s company, and it was as frightening now as then. Still, I charged past the shredded door with a howl, my comrades crowding behind me as we barged through an antechamber and came into a wide salon. I noticed the lush carpets, elegant carved furniture, and sumptuous silk hangings only as potential hiding places, but the salon was empty. I pressed on through the suite, knives in both hands, ready for anything that might leap out at me, Finlor or not. But nothing moved.

“He is not here?” Lindir groaned in frustration.

“He was, mere seconds ago,” Thranduil replied. He stood by a narrow door. “There is a trap door in the floor.”

“Search the apartment quickly, to make sure he is not here!” Lord Elrond shouted, and most of us scurried to do so. Gandalf strode to Thranduil’s side, lit the head of his staff, and thrust it into the open trap door. Peering around him, all I saw was darkness.

“What is below this level of the cavern?” the wizard inquired.

“More residences,” Thranduil replied grimly. That meant more civilians to run afoul of Finlor’s evil.

Gandalf’s growl was wordless, but no less aware of the danger than the king or I was. “The diadem is not here. He would not merely toss it down. So he must be below.”

The wizard lowered himself on the ladder down through the floor. I followed as closely behind as I could. We came out into another residential corridor. There was no sign in either direction of anything –

“There! The draperies!” Gandalf pointed.

Indeed, the silken hangings over the next door rippled as if someone had passed by, so Gandalf and I ran forward. More of our party came behind us, but we were strung out now because we’d had to climb down the ladder one at a time. That didn’t deter me. I ran after Gandalf as fast as I could, cursing my short legs that let the wizard draw ahead of me.

Unexpectedly, the wizard’s hand shot out, grabbing at something. “Kíli! I have him! Help me!”

The wizard’s staff flew to the side as Gandalf struggled to get both hands on the invisible figure. I dove in to find a slender, wiry body twisting in Gandalf’s grasp, and scrabbled to get my arms around his waist. My hold was still tenuous when Gandalf cried out, and suddenly released the invisible figure to scrabble after something bouncing over the floor. The diadem! I clawed desperately to keep hands on our quarry, but he was as eely and strong as any Elf I’d fought, and my grip was about to fail.

“Gandalf! “ I yelled. “Anyone! I’m about to lose him!”

King Thranduil scrabbled to my side, flailing out blindly to find any part of the murderer to hold onto. Just as Gandalf and Lord Elrond rushed in to help, the bastard kicked me straight in the balls. My vision disappeared into exploding fireworks, and numbing, then excruciating pain paralyzed me, and I couldn’t keep hands on the invisible Elf for any amount of trying. I didn’t even have the breath to gasp out a curse as he slithered out of reach.

“”Quick! After him!” Gandalf gasped, but Lindir and the king had to haul me up by my arms and drag me along for some distance before I got my legs under me again. I stumbled after the wizard sucking in deep breaths of air, trying to clear my vision. Finally, finally, I was able to run after Gandalf unaided, but even if I hadn’t been so winded it would have been a race. For a wizard who looked so old, he was unflagging, running as swiftly as a Dwarf in his prime.

“How do you know he’s ahead of us?” I gasped.

“I feel the ring!”

“How? I thought you had the diadem!”

“I do, but not what it contained!”

Oh, Valar, the bastard had taken Gandalf’s ring out of the diadem. So throwing the diadem had just been a ruse, no matter how valuable the gold and gems in it were, to gain the murderer his freedom. Still, Gandalf was clearly able to sense his ring, and was following it. How long before Finlor realized that what he carried drew us behind him?

 

* * *

 

_Careless, careless! Finlor cursed himself as he cut too closely around the corner, disturbing the draperies and bringing the wizard after him. He sprinted, but his leg bearing the mongrel’s mark across his thigh buckled, and the wizard lunged to get a hand on him. At the very last second, just before the mongrel crashed into him, he got the diadem in hand, and flung it back down the hall. As expected, the wizard pushed away from him with a cry, diving after the bouncing diadem. The fool! Finlor had the powerful ring the diadem had contained safely in his pocket. He kicked the halfbreed full in his benighted testicles, then kneed him away as he collapsed gasping in pain. Finlor twisted away from grasping fingers, and darted further down the corridor. It would be easy to slip away from the fools behind him now, as long as he didn’t touch any more of the hanging draperies or crash into the decorative statuary._

_But the pursuit didn’t fade behind him. It still came on, despite him leaving no sign of his passing. In fact, it drew closer. How was this possible? What allowed the rabble clattering behind him to follow his twists and turns through the halls and corridors so unerringly? Of course! It must be the Elvish ring! Those behind him still sensed it, and therefore him! He would not give up such a prize willingly, so he needed something else to slow those behind him._

_He ran into the next hall. Ahead of him was a pair of Elves standing by a fountain in deep conversation. He slipped the knives from his sleeves, and stabbed both from behind. He shoved one into the fountain and the other to obstruct the hall to those behind him, and ran on before either of the Elves realized what had happened._

_That would hold his pursuers for a moment only. He needed a bigger distraction to slip away from them completely._

_He headed for the cavern’s highest levels._

 

* * *

 

Gandalf raced ahead of me, pausing only briefly when we reached the juncture of two corridors. The king, Lindir, and I caught up first, then the rest of the foray party. “This way!” Gandalf’s voice rang out, as he plunged ahead. Lord Elrond moved abreast of him, with me just behind. Despite his injury, Teth kept dogged pace beside King Thranduil, and the guardsmen streamed behind us.

An Elf lay sprawled by a fountain, the floor running red with his blood. The fountain itself ran red, for a second Elf floated face down in it. I remembered my orders, to stay without exception on Finlor’s tail, but my anger at the murderer’s cruelty helped to lighten my steps. I plunged on after Gandalf, and left the guard to see to the two Elves.

Just a few moments further on, I realized that the murderer’s path was leading us upwards. King Thranduil must have realized the same thing, for he sprinted abreast of me to call to Gandalf and Lord Elrond. “Mithrandir! He runs towards the _Pand uin Gilith_!”

I didn’t have breath to curse. One of the stops on Ondine’s tour of the caverns had been the Courtyard of Starlight. It was a tranquil indoor garden with several portals in its ceiling that let in a bounty of sunlight and starlight. Many Elves frequented it at this late hour to take their refreshment from the starlight that poured through the portals. Between his knife and his invisibility, Finlor would wreak havoc on the Elves unfortunate enough to cross his path. If he had the necklace with him, too, he’d wreak carnage, too.

“How many entrances and exits to the garden?” Lord Elrond panted.

“Two – the one we approach, and the one across the courtyard.”

“Gandalf, you take the far entrance!” Lord Elrond ordered. “Kíli, you block the one we enter!”

“Aye!” I called, and kept running.

All too soon, screams and cries rose ahead of us. When we burst into the wide garden, three Elves had already crumpled on the paths and in the borders. Gandalf raced for the far doorway, and I let the rest of the foray party pass through this one before I planted myself in the middle of it, knives ready. Everyone else in the party had knives out, too. Oh, Valar, don’t let the bastard draw out that damned necklace now –

That’s exactly what Finlor did, and instantly most of the Elves screamed and fought among themselves. Lord Elrond, Teth, and the king didn’t, but even they were frozen in place as they tried to resist the demonic pull of the dragon’s gold. Oh, Valar, Valar, to see friends turn upon each other was more horrific than any Orc battle, but I forced myself to watch for any pattern, any clue... yes, they all surged towards the outermost edges of the garden, towards the wall portals that overlooked the top of the cavern and the forest outside. If I had that thing in my hand, I’d use it to draw everyone away from the doors, then slam it back in the box, and sprint for the exit.

“Gandalf!” I shouted. “He’ll try to slip through one of the doors any second now!”

“Clever halfbreed,” I heard much too closely on my left, as the Elves suddenly stopped fighting. He hadn’t even finished the epithet before I winged my knife around, hoping to score something. My knife caught on something, so I brought the other one to bear, but found only air. “But not clever enough.”

A knife rattled on my armor, and a curse followed it when I suffered no damage. I backed into the doorway, determined that Finlor would not get by me. Nor did he, but across the way, Gandalf fell violently to the floor as Finlor knocked him aside.

“He is through the door!” Lord Elrond shouted, and I raced to follow the high lord and the rest of the foray party through the doorway and onward. I wracked my brains to remember where this hallway led. I’d traversed it just a few days ago, but my thoughts were blank – the main hallway? Yes, we were headed towards the big central hallway that led to many of the public areas of the cavern area.

“Where is he heading? The main hall?” I shouted as we ran.

“Yes!” the king shouted. “He may try to reach the main gates out of the cavern!"

“Can he open the gates by himself?” Lord Elrond asked.

“No!” Thranduil shouted back.

“Then draw all the guard from the main door so that he cannot easily force them to help him!” Lord Elrond said. “Then we must find him before he can use the necklace again!”

We pounded down the last ramp and into the wide hall. Thranduil ran forward, shouting for the guard to scatter away from the huge doors.

 

* * *

 

_Finlor ran into the main hall and sprinted for the outside doors. Behind him, the king screamed at the guard to scatter from the door. It was generous of the king to clear Finlor’s way so quickly out of misplaced concern for the guardsmen, and he allowed himself a chuckle as he reached the outer door and heaved up the heavy bar and pushed to let himself out –_

_What was this? The doors would not open to him. The king had sealed the doors, then! He’d likely sealed every entrance in the cavern in a futile effort to keep Finlor contained. So be it, then. Finlor would see that he wrought as much ruin on this benighted kingdom and everyone in it before he made his way away. He turned towards the guest suites. The Elvish ring would draw his pursuers after him, so that they could watch what happened when he found the spawn of a mongrel halfbreed and an Elf._


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Is this finally the chapter when Finlor gets his? Or will the Woodland Realm have to face his sadistic predations again? Will I leave you all with another cliffhanger? Read on to find out!

Gandalf ran straight across the main hall towards the corridor that led to the guest suites. What did our quarry want there? There wasn’t a through path to other parts of the cavern – convenient, to be sure, to house visitors who shouldn’t wander around the Woodland Realm by themselves. I darted to King Thranduil’s side.

“The guest wing is a dead end, yes? No way into the rest of the cavern?”

The king’s expression was grim. “That is so. All my folk know that. So this pestilence has no good intentions to flee this way.”

“Hostages, maybe?” I asked as we ran.

“Or worse.”

“We’d better pass the word. Your legs are longer, so I’ll tell the guard, and you tell Lord Elrond.”

“Agreed.” The king sprinted forward, and I fell back a few steps to warn those behind me of what King Thranduil and I expected. Not too soon, either – Gandalf, Lord Elrond, and Teth had just rounded the corner to the entrance to the wing of guest suites. A Woodland guardsman stood there, shouting at us.

“Ware the oil on the floor!” he bellowed. “Stay to the sides!”

Our comrades had not been idle while we’d chased Finlor through the cavern. I wouldn’t have noticed the sheen on the already polished stone floors, but the guard had poured oil across the center of the hallway. The remains of a tripwire lay twisted across the floor just before the oil, so they must have tried to down him. It must have worked, because the floor past the slick of oil was streaked. Giriel was struggling to her feet. She was splattered in oil, her face was bloody, and her arms wrapped around her ribs as if they were broken. The oil trailed away from her in clear footprints, so now we had something to follow in addition to Gandalf’s sense of his ring –

We had screams to guide us, too. Somewhere ahead, the necklace was wreaking havoc again.

 

* * *

 

_Finlor hit the tripwire at full speed, falling heavily to the floor into... what was this? Oil? The floor swam in an ocean of cooking oil! As the Elves shouted and pointed to the oily signs of his presence, he floundered to right himself and escape before they started shooting or tripped over his body. One of them did shoot – the blond flitter-wit, dressed in Imladris mail and drawing a Dwarvish bow. The bitch didn’t look the least bit flighty as she drew back the bolt. The only thing that kept her arrow from skewering him was his good fortune, for he drew up his feet just in time for it to bounce harmlessly off the floor. Despite the slimy mess, he rolled to the side where he found enough purchase to gain his footing. But the oil left a trail wherever he stepped, and even the stupidest guardsmen could track him easily. He yanked the necklace out of his tunic just as the blond maid launched herself at him._

_The breath gusted out of him as the maid plowed into him with fists flying. He barely held onto the necklace under her assault, which intensified as the dragon’s lust infected her. He smacked her across the face with the necklace, tearing gouges, and kicked her hard in the abdomen twice to shove her into the path of the oncoming Elves who clamored for the necklace. Behind them came the wizard. Nothing left to do for it, then – he crammed the necklace back in the box, and crawled away from the fallen maid. He fished the magic ring from the diadem out of his pocket, and hurled it as far away from the wizard as he could. That diverted the wizard and those after him, leaving a gap among the scrambling bodies for him to dodge away._

_A horde of Elves, most from the court or those striving to join it, streamed out of two of the guest chambers. What had drawn them here in such quantities? No matter. There were so many of them that it was nothing to dodge between them, opening the mithril box for a few seconds here and there until the entire wing was full of flailing, hysterical Elves. He kept them moving, enjoying their helplessness and terror as he stabbed one or another at random. If he thrust very quickly, he could dart away before the Elves fell screaming, and no one knew where their hidden attacker was._

_He crept around the hall until he found the mongrel’s guest suite – that was likely where the spawn was – and darted silently into the sitting room. It was empty. One of the doors was closed. When he tried the knob, it was locked from the inside. The spawn and its guards were within, then? He padded to the central table, stripped off his oil-soaked fuligin tunic, and let it fall onto the thick carpet. The glowing lamp on the table found fine fuel in the oil-soaked cloth and carpet, and thick black smoke quickly billowed up. He yanked a silk drapery from the wall to add to the fire, took the drapery rod in hand, and ran to the door to the hallway._

_“Fire! Fire! He’s started a fire!” he screamed in a high-pitched voice, and ran back to stand by the inner door. Out in the hallway, Elves screamed as the smoke thickened._

* * *

 

Rhiannel and I stared at each other when the cries went up about a fire. Yes, smoke seeped under the door to the room where my friend and I guarded Míriel. The bathing chamber and necessary were beyond this room, but neither offered any exit into the cavern. The only way out, then, was through the sitting room and into the hall beyond. I took Míriel from her cradle and hastily thrust her into her carrying basket. Rhiannel stood by the door with knives at the ready, and I had both of mine in hand, too.

“I will go out first,” Rhiannel said. “You pause a moment, if the fire allows, before you follow.”

I nodded. “Go.”

Rhiannel unbolted the door and plunged through. The fire blazed up to the ceiling of the sitting room, so I didn’t delay. I plunged through after my friend at my best speed –

I fell heavily to the smoldering carpet, tripped by what had felt like a metal rod. Yes, one of the drapery rods lay beside me. Míriel’s basket kept me from rolling to my feet, and I struggled awkwardly to get my feet under me. I managed to get to my hands and knees before a kick to my ribs sent me sprawling onto my face. I sensed rather than saw a figure loom over me. I struggled up again, but my daughter’s weight on my back vanished, and another kick to my ribs knocked me flat again.

“Míriel!” I screamed. “He’s taken Míriel!”

“Tauriel!” Kíli stood in the doorway of the blazing room beside Rhiannel, knives in hand. “We’ve got the door!”

“I’ve got the spawn,” a disembodied voice laughed, and Muriel appeared on the carpet in a tumble, as if Finlor had rolled her out of his grasp. “I’ve also got the necklace. Shall I let her hold it?”

That cursed, cursed necklace appeared out of the air, and settled quite deliberately around the neck of my crying daughter. In a wave, dragon sickness swept over me, and I forgot fire, daughter, murderer. All that mattered was getting my hands on that exquisitely beautiful treasure of pink and white gems, pink and green gold.

I drew my knives. I’d reach that treasure before any Elf or Dwarf, and it would be mine.

 

* * *

 

The necklace draped over Míriel’s body like a noose, all the more horrible because it was so beautiful. Dropping my knives, I didn’t hesitate to put Rhiannel on his back with as hard a backhand as I could muster. I caught him blind, so he had no defense, and dropped instantly. I tackled Tauriel, tumbling her away from Míriel as she lunged forward with knives slashing. I didn’t take time to clout her, figuring the bastard would use those few seconds as license to hurt my daughter when his ploy to get Tauriel to kill her failed. I dove for the howling Míriel, tore the necklace off her, and rolled around her like a ball. Before I could fumble the mithril box Legolas had given me out of my tunic, Finlor’s invisible foot connected with my shoulder. A second later, Tauriel tripped over me, giving Finlor the chance to kick me yet again; the combination of blows left my arm so numb that I couldn’t hold the necklace. It levitated off the floor as Finlor grabbed it just out of my reach. As fast as I moved to pursue, Finlor was faster. I lunged again, missed, and crashed into a chair, drawing his laughter. I kept swinging, but he evaded me easily, and disappeared with the necklace into the smoke.

I was left to grope for Míriel and Tauriel and Rhiannel through the thick smoke. Finlor must have cached the necklace in its box again, for Tauriel was beside Rhiannel, trying to drag him out of the flaming room. I snared Míriel under my arm, sheathed my discarded knives, and grabbed the neck of Rhiannel’s armor. With Tauriel beside me, we dragged our friend out into the hallway.

All around us, Elves were running back and forth, many in full scream. Several lay moaning in the hall, bleeding. Smoke billowed from our room into the hall, obscuring everything in acrid, oily black fumes. Tauriel pushed herself to her feet and ran mindlessly away – the necklace was out again. Even the unconscious Rhiannel twitched and moaned, then suddenly roused and flailed himself after the rest of the Elves. I huddled on the floor, panting and clutching my screaming daughter in my arms. How could I abandon her in the midst of smoke and conflagration to find an invisible assassin? He could circle back and inflict his worst on Míriel as soon as I left her. If Tauriel had been angry when I’d fought off Orcs with Míriel on my back, she’d never forgive me for leaving her alone in the face of gold-maddened Elves and a crazed alchemist.

If I didn’t, the dragon's gold would continue to torture an entire kingdom, including my wife and daughter.

With Míriel screaming inconsolably in my arms, I ran away from the guest suites and out into the main hall. There was a decorative chest there, as far away from the smoke and fire as I could find. More Elves ran past me, fighting and tripping and howling, as I opened the top of the chest and put Míriel inside. I’d hidden my bairn in a blanket box before, but this time was much harder. In Thorin’s Halls, I’d had to protect her only from a pair of Orcs. This time, I had to protect her from an entire Elvish kingdom.

“I’m sorry, Miri,” I begged as my bairn howled as if she were in the worst pain. “I’m sorry, little jewel. But I have to stop this.”

Feeling worse than anything Tauriel could have called me, I left my bairn and followed the screams down the hall.

 

* * *

 

_It was time to make his escape. The screams of terror and the smell of blood and smoke were heady and charged Finlor with excitement, but even that delectable ambrosia wouldn’t strengthen him for much longer. Even the pride of knowing how swiftly he had brought an entire kingdom to its knees would not preserve him if and when the wizard reclaimed his treasure. He would make a single attempt for the high lord’s ring, and then, whether he won that prize or not, he would make his way away. He had all of his personal tokens, and he had the necklace. Those would be enough to sustain him while he found new hunting grounds._

_He dodged the frantic Elves out of the guest suite corridor and ran back to the main hall. Yes, this was an apt place for his final statement. He opened the mithril box again, and as if every Elf were bound to his will, they rushed towards him, fighting and trampling as they came. Here came the Nandor maid and her blond confederate, scrapping at each other as if they were mortal enemies. He circled around the hall, drawing the Elves after him, until he spotted the high lord and the white-haired king. He closed the box to make the Elves mill in confusion, and stabbed one or two at random as he wove a zigzag path between them. He came behind the high lord and stabbed hard, but the tough armored leather turned his blade. The lord cried out, turning –_

_This wasn’t the high lord! Finlor cursed when he realized that he’d attacked the shorter, slighter aide instead, and slashed his knife at the back of the aide’s leg, hoping to hamstring the wretch for deceiving him. But before his blade landed, the aide turned into him, driving a knee into his chest and knocking half the wind out of him. At the aide’s shout, the king slashed his long sword Needle, driving Finlor back when the tip of the blade left her sanguine trace across his upper arm. The wound was superficial, but it hurt enough that Finlor’s rage boiled. He ducked past the arcing blade and stabbed again, right into the chest of the king. But the blade didn’t deeply penetrate the king’s armor, and against all reason, the king grabbed above the blade to seize Finlor’s wrist._

_“I have him!” the king shouted._

_The aide grappled beside the king, both of them desperate to wrestle Finlor to the ground. No matter how hard they tried, however, they could not force him off his feet, but they still kept their hands on him. The aide even found Finlor’s off hand, pinning it against his side as he groped for Finlor’s fingers. He could not keep the aide from finding and then yanking one of his rings free. The aide realized that his ring of invisibility was bound to the bracelet on his wrist, and jerked the chain hard. The chain held, but the clasp on the bracelet did not, and the ring was torn from him. He was in plain sight of everyone!_

_With a roar, Finlor pounded the hilt of his knife against the aide’s head, staggering him. Another stab at the king struck a gap in the fine black leathers, sending the king to his knees with a cry of pain. Finlor stabbed the aide repeatedly, trying to free his rings. But the aide threw them away in a spasm, and the king brought up Needle to keep Finlor from stabbing the aide again._

_Without his invisibility, Finlor was forced to flee. He ran down the main corridor, hoping the turmoil would hold long enough for him to get through the throng. But who was that before him? The king? Despite himself, Finlor looked behind him, and yes, the king still struggled to his feet, his left arm hanging limply at his side – no, not the king! The Elf running towards him held a slightly longer blade – that was Needle, and her bearer was the king himself. The Elf behind him was only a double bearing Icicle, the king’s second blade._

_Finlor took out the mithril box, and looked up to the ceiling of the central hall. Two steps forward were all he needed. He opened the mithril box for the last time, took the necklace in hand, and waited until the king was almost at hand. In a single swift motion, Finlor tossed the necklace high into the air. It hung at the apex of its path for a split second, and then it fell into the bowl of one of the great amber lamps that illuminated the hall._

_“What kind of king lets a single enemy destroy his kingdom in a matter of minutes?” Finlor taunted as the king reeled and fell to his knees. Needle clattered from the king’s hand to land at Finlor’s feet. How fitting. He kicked it away, savoring how the blade clattered across the stone and bounced uselessly against a stone pillar. “No king, to be sure.”_

_Chaos descended across the main hall once more as Elves turned on each other without mercy. Finlor laughed as he dodged the flailing bodies to make his way away. This time, there would be no one to follow him._

 

* * *

 

 

The main corridor of the Woodland Realm looked like something out of Melkor’s nightmares. Everywhere, Elves fought one another like tormented spirits – which was exactly what they were. Somewhere in this bedlam was the dragon’s necklace, and looking at how many Elves continued to pour into the main corridor, I despaired of ever finding it. Where was Gandalf? He was the only other one who didn’t feel the pull of the gold. In the midst of so many colored silks and suedes and velvets, I found no sign of grey, of a wizard’s staff, or a sign of reason or sanity. I didn’t know what else to do, so I skirted the Elves towards where the turmoil seemed to center.

“Kíli! Kíli!”

I couldn’t see who called me – yet one more disadvantage of being shorter than everyone else in this benighted place – but the sound came from my left. Was it Gandalf’s voice? I dodged as best I could, forging as straight a path as I could to the far side of the hall. Yes, there was Gandalf! To my horror, he was fighting with Lord Elrond. So even the high lord’s strength of will had run out in the face of such long exposure to the dragon’s gold. I plowed in full bore, knocking Lord Elrond flat to the floor.

“Good!” Gandalf ‘s boot planted itself with a thump on Lord Elrond’s chest, and his staff poked the high lord’s breastbone. “I have him. King Thranduil is in the middle of that, under the lamp. Bring him!”

I didn’t think about how stupid it was to fling myself into a swirling maelstrom of crazed Elves bearing knives, but trusted that Gandalf knew what he was asking. In I went with a curse. About halfway through the storm, after dodging innumerable kicks and blows and slashing blades, I found a very battered and beleaguered Tethrandil, struggling to drag the crazed King Thranduil out of the mess. I clouted the king as he fought my friend, who was bleeding from several wounds as well as making his own fight against gold sickness. I grabbed the neck of the stunned king’s armored leathers, and dragged him to lie beside Lord Elrond.

“Now what?” I panted to Gandalf. “Where’s Finlor?”

“Fled. The necklace is up there,” the wizard pointed to the ceiling lamp, high out of reach. “Quickly, now – Elrond, Thranduil, Tethrandil! Go after Finlor. Kíli and I will deal with the necklace and follow you, but you must keep him close.”

“I will not leave my people!” the king groaned.

“You do your people no good if you are dead!” Gandalf snapped. “Or worse, as crazed as they are. The farther from the necklace you go, the better you serve your people. Leave them to Kíli and me!”

The king gave me a glare as I pulled him upright. “Go,” I urged him. “I promise I’ll see to your folk as best I can. So will Gandalf.”

“Lindir took his ring of invisibility. He has two knives. He went down that hallway,” Gandalf told them, pointing.

The three battered Elves drove themselves away only with difficulty, but they went. I looked to Gandalf.

“How do we get the necklace down?” I asked, looking out into the seething Elves.

“That is the easy part.”

I snorted. “I hope you’re up for that part, then, because it doesn’t look easy to me.”

“I will bring the lamp down. When I do, before the Elves rush back in, we will find the necklace, and you will put it into a mithril box. Do you still have one?”

I pulled it out of my tunic.

“Good. Hold on to it tightly.”

I stuffed the box back into my tunic. “But how will you get the lamp down?”

Gandalf’s jaw clenched, and there was no twinkle in his eyes. “Magic.”

I gulped.

“The first blow will knock everyone down in the hall. I hope it will also clear the floor under the lamp. Even if it does not, the second will bring down the lamp. As soon as it falls, we will run in to find the necklace. I will protect you as best I can, but it will behoove us if you find the necklace quickly.” Gandalf gave me a penetrating glare, but it was apprehension, not anger that made his gaze so sharp. “Stand behind me now. That will guard you from the shock.”

I did as I was told, but I peeked around his body so I’d see what happened. The wizard raised his arms, staff upraised, and his voice rang out in words I didn’t understand. There was a surge of air, then a muffled boom, and Elves fell back in a wide circle from a point just underneath the lamp. Immediately after, a precise beam of light flashed up to the ceiling, either burning or breaking the iron that fastened the lamp to the ceiling. The lamp hurtled down like a missile, shattering on the floor in a thunderous roar. I ran after Gandalf, leaping over the fallen Elves as fast as I was able. One clutched at me, but I swatted the hand away and kept running. Thankfully, my heavy boots protected me as I crunched over shards of broken amber glass and splintered ironwork.

“There, Kíli! Two steps to your left! Quickly!”

The necklace glittered in the smoky light. As Gandalf stood over me with staff raised, I thrust my hand into the shattered carcass of the lamp and got the necklace in hand. I pulled out the mithril box from my tunic, pried it open, threw the necklace inside, and slammed the box shut.

We had pulled the dragon’s teeth.

 

* * *

 

_The madness that stripped all reason, all sentience, all intelligence cleared as quickly as if a knife had cut through it. It ended so abruptly that Elrond staggered, catching himself on a stone pillar to keep himself from falling. Beside him, Thranduil also staggered. As Elrond caught the king by his arm, keeping him upright, Tethrandil dropped to his knees behind them._

_“Lord Elrond! Gandalf and Kíli have the necklace!” Teth gasped. “Oh, Valar, they have the necklace.”_

_“They do,” Elrond agreed, breathing hard. “They are a resourceful pair.”_

_Thranduil put a hand out to the wall to steady himself. “Let us reward their efforts and find the murderer.”_

_“Are we sure he came this way?” Tethrandil asked._

_Lord Elrond had only to point to the oily footprints that slicked the floor. The three Elves pressed on after them._

_* * *_

 

Oh, Valar, Valar, the dragon sickness was gone! The madness faded from my thoughts, and my eyes cleared – only to look upon devastation. The main hall was full of smoke, and the sound of flames roared from the guest suites. The tessellated floor was covered in blood and the bodies of dead and injured Elves. The very center was mostly free of bodies, but one of the great lamps had been torn from the ceiling and lay in ruins, its amber glass shattered in a circle around its torn metal fittings. Gandalf and Kíli stood in the middle of that ruin, smoke blackened and panting, but otherwise unhurt. Kíli clutched a mithril box to his chest, so the necklace must lie within, its malice contained for the moment. He handed the box to Gandalf, who secreted it into his robes. I got to my feet, and picked my way around the groaning Elves.

“Kíli!” I called, raising my hand.

“Tauriel!” my husband called back. He rushed towards me, eyes wide. “Oh, Tauriel, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... I had to leave Míriel. I didn’t want to, I swear! I’m sorry!”

“What? Where is she? Where, Kíli?”

“She’s in that great box near you. Can you get her out?”

I hurried to the box, and together we got the top up. There was our daughter, frightened and crying, but unhurt. I drew her out and into my arms.

“I’m sorry, Tauriel. I didn’t want to leave her, but I couldn’t carry her into the slaughter! I couldn’t! I’m sorry!”

I shut my eyes, frightened at what could have happened, but I’d learned my lesson from the Orc battle.

“Of course you couldn’t, Kíli. You protected her as best you could. I know you did.”

“You do?” His eyes got even wider.

Swallowing my fear, I nodded firmly. “I do.”

He grabbed my shoulders and kissed me. “Oh and oh, you are my most precious _amrâlimê_!”

“You are my most precious _a’maelamin_.”

“Kíli,” Gandalf called. “We are not yet done.”

Kíli’s relieved smile disappeared. He glanced at Gandalf, then met my eyes again. He had a sharp, grim expression on his face, and he was as intent as a wolf on the hunt. “The alchemist. Finlor. I have to go, or this won’t stop.”

“Go. I’ll see to Míriel, and we’ll set things to rights.”

“Teth went after Finlor with Lord Elrond and the king. Lindir’s somewhere in this mess. He’s got Finlor’s invisibility ring. I don’t know where the rest of the Orc Spawn are, or Legolas."

“I will find them. Go, _amrâlimê_. Do what is needed, and then come back to me.”

He kissed me again, and ran after Gandalf, disappearing down a side passage. I looked back over the carnage, and found Legolas staggering towards me. The prince was as bloodied and battered as all of us, and the smoke had smudged him with soot, but he was not badly hurt.

“I’ve got the fire out,” he rasped. The smoke had roughened his voice. “Round up what’s left of the guard, and we’ll see to this.”

“Send a patrol after Kíli and Gandalf,” I asked. “They’ve gone after your father and Lord Elrond to track Finlor down.”

We sent first six healthy guardsmen who came up to us after my _a’maelamin_ and the wizard. Then Legolas and I began to salvage what we could of the Woodland Realm.

 

* * *

 

I had to run after Gandalf at full speed to catch up. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” I shouted, hoping he’d slow a step or two, or I’d be right out of breath whenever we came upon Finlor. He cast a backwards glance at me, and slowed the merest bit until I was just a step behind him.

“Hurry!” the wizard exhorted.

“But we’ve got his invisibility ring and the necklace, you’ve got your ring back, and he’s left us a clear trail,” I panted, hoping one of those might slacken the wizard’s headlong pace even a little.

“He is still very dangerous!” Gandalf retorted, giving me a fierce look as we ran. “Lord Elrond and King Thranduil, not to mention our friend Tethrandil, are in grave danger from that viper, and if we let him escape to find refuge with the Dark Lord, all of Middle Earth is in danger as well!”

I winced. It wasn’t enough that the Woodland Realm was in a shambles; now all of Middle Earth was in danger, too. If I got my hands on this Finlor again, I’d make sure his days as the viper coiled in the heart of this forest were over. But that meant tracking him down, and so I came back around to running down a shadowy corridor at a headlong pace.

“Where does this hallway go?” I asked. “Can you tell if he’s trying to find a way out, or just looking to create more mayhem?”

“I would imagine both,” the wizard growled irritably. “You should recognize the way, you fool. We’re heading down to the lowest parts of the cavern.”

“The cells? He’s going down to the cells? What’s he hope to do, trap us all behind bars?”

Gandalf glared at me. “And what is below the cells, you insufferably dense and impertinent Dwarf?”

“Oh and oh! The stores! Is he looking to drop into the river the way Bilbo got us out of here?”

“What else?”

I gulped. Gandalf wouldn’t like my answer, but I said it anyway. “Maybe the _Glawar-galad_? There’s a service entrance into the garden from one of the storerooms.”

The wizard skewered me with a startled expression. “Is there? Oh, dear. Run!”

I was left to struggle on after the long-legged wizard, who sprinted ahead as if he hadn’t already spent the night in the midst of a running battle. I scampered behind as fast as I could, but only a moment or two more passed before I spotted Gandalf beside Lord Elrond, King Thranduil, and Tethrandil. The corridor crossed another where they stood, and in the middle of the intersection lay a dead Elf. I pounded up breathlessly.

“So much for our trail,” Lord Elrond put his arms akimbo, looking down the three corridors in turn. Beside the dead Elf was a pair of oil-soaked black boots. The Elf’s feet were bare.

“Where do these corridors lead?” Gandalf demanded of the king.

“The cells, the stores, and back up to the main hall,” the king replied, pointing down each one in turn.

“He may be hoping to slip out through the wine drop,” Gandalf said with a look at me. “But Kíli said that there is a way into the _Glawar-galad_ from the stores, as well.”

“What good would it do to flee into the garden if he cannot get out of it?” Teth asked.

“There may still be a way out of the cavern from the garden,” I told them. “When Tauriel and I were trapped in there two years ago, the dragon caused an earthquake, and opened a crack to the outside. That’s how we got out. Was the crack repaired?”

“It was,” the king confirmed. “But the repairs were made soon after the dragon was slain. I do not know if it has been checked since.”

“I doubt that either the main hall or the cells offer our quarry much reason to take those paths,” Lord Elrond said. “So either the stores or the garden are Finlor’s likely destinations.”

A clatter behind us announced the arrival of six guardsmen. Legolas had sent them after us to bolster our ranks.

“One of you return to my son and bid him send guards outside the cavern to defend the crack that was repaired over the _Glawar-galad_ ,” King Thranduil ordered. “The murderer may try to escape through it, if he can pry it open. Also send guards to the river drop, and alert the those on the sluice gates to let no one pass.”

One of the guards ran off, and the rest followed us as we headed down to the stores.

I had my wind back, so I kept pace beside Gandalf as Thranduil led us rapidly down the corridor. We burst into the stores to find it empty. When most of the foray party rushed to secure the barrel drop, I veered off to the side to find the storeroom that hid the service door into the _Glawar-galad_.

The door was shut, but I opened it a few cautious inches. I didn’t hear anything, so I opened it a few scant inches more. Still nothing. I eased it wider open, until I could see something of the ground before the door. Where there footprints that looked recent?

No, but there was a faint sprinkle of rock dust. A little more drifted down as I watched, and I heard a scrape above me. I eased the door shut, and backtracked to Gandalf. I yanked on his robe hard, drawing his glare, but I didn’t care. I pointed to the storeroom.

“He’s inside the garden. Just above the door, either trying to widen the crack, or wriggling through it as I speak!”

“Good work, my boy!” Gandalf’s eyes flashed. “Hurry, all of you -- into the garden! Look for our quarry above the door!”

We packed into the storeroom, and Gandalf led the charge through in a frightful rush. I dashed behind him, turned to look up above the doorway, and found –

Nothing?

Oh, Valar, I’d made a terrible, terrible mistake –

“There!” One of the guardsmen yelled, pointing out into the garden. “He’s there!”

“Flank him on both sides and pursue!” Lord Elrond howled, and we all raced after the barest glimpse of black slipping between the trees. It was full night inside the garden, and we’d be hard pressed to pick out Finlor’s dark clothing from the shadows. Did the bastard bear a lucky ring? It seemed like every advantage of the night had been his, from invisibility to fire to smoke to knives to dragon necklaces, and now the sun itself conspired to keep him hidden. I counted those in the foray party. Five guardsmen, the king, the wizard, Lord Elrond, Teth, and me – ten of us against one lucky and resourceful rogue alchemist. All of us were tired, battered, thirsty, and hungry – I wished I’d thought to grab a few buns on the way through the storeroom, just to bolster my flagging energy. All I wanted to do was to rest, even for a few moments. Even knowing Finlor suffered the same trials didn’t console me. Or maybe he didn’t – Elves didn’t tire the way I did. But then I thought of a reason to hurry to Lord Elrond’s side.

“My lord?”

“Kíli?”

“With all respect, my lord, aren’t we playing right to Finlor’s advantages again? He doesn’t have his invisibility ring, but it’s dark, and he knows how to creep around in the dark without a sound. He could hit any of us and be gone before the rest of us knew he was there.”

“You are a wise warrior,” the high lord nodded. “Let us consider, then, before we go farther afield.”

Lord Elrond raised the call to hold, and we drew back to the doorway where we’d entered. He explained my point about the dark, which drew several nods, and turned to the king.

“Thranduil, how many exits to the outside are within the garden? Can Finlor open any of them?”

“There are six, equally spaced about the outer wall. But they are locked along with the other doors in and out of the cavern, and Finlor will not open them.”

“Good,” Lord Elrond exhaled. “Are there other fissures such as the one above this door where he could escape?”

King Thranduil shook his head. “We checked the cavern ceiling carefully two years ago, and the only one above the Glawar-galad is the one above this door.”

“Kíli, you know stone,” Lord Elrond said. “Please check the fissure to see if it is open.”

“I’ll need a torch,” I cautioned. “It’ll let Finlor know what we’re looking for.”

“That is all to our good,” the high lord said. “He will know we are aware of the fissure, and he will know that we have camped beneath it. If there is no other way out of the cavern, he will have to come through us to get to it. If he chooses not to do so, then when morn comes, we will sweep the cavern.”

“We will need more troops for that,” the king said. “I can send for more guardsmen when morn comes. I am loath to do so now, for I fear that they are sorely needed in the main cavern to help all those hurt in Finlor’s attack.”

“Agreed,” Lord Elrond said. “If it is any consolation, passing the night here will last but a few moments in the main cavern, so let us hope that we down our quarry quickly so that we can return to help our folk.”

“Do you mean to capture Finlor alive?” Gandalf said into the air. The question hung there, and the answer would say much about whether we were any more principled than the Elf we hunted. Lord Elrond looked among us, and when he got to me, I held his gaze without apology.

“No,” King Thranduil said. That single word was as cold as winter ice.

“We do not have that luxury,” the high lord agreed. “He cannot be allowed to wreak such destruction again. When the chance comes to any of you, strike quickly, and strike hard. Can all of you do so?”

“I’m not giving him another chance at me or mine,” I said frankly. “He tried to kill my bairn. My wife. My friends. Me. No more. If I catch him, I’ll kill him.”

That seemed to be the consensus, so one of the guardsmen went back into the storage room for torches and lamps. Praise the Valar, he brought back a basket of ham buns and carafes of water, too. As soon as I looked at the fissure, I’d avail myself of both.

Duty first, however. I took the first lit torch and climbed up the wall above the door. The same handholds and crevices were there that Tauriel and I used to escape two years ago, and there was the crevice that Smaug’s earthquake had opened. It had been filled with rocks held in place with mortar, but it looked like another tremor since then had loosened the filling. There wasn’t a clear opening to the outside, but with a couple of hours’ worth of work, I could make one. It might take an Elf an hour or so longer. I climbed down and told my comrades what I’d seen.

“So it does us no harm to wait until morn before we search,” Lord Elrond said. He stared at the ground and smiled perversely. “Perhaps we should tell our quarry that.”

I snorted, but under my breath. If Lord Elrond was going to do the noble thing and shout out to the bastard alchemist that we’d happily welcome his surrender before the morn, let him, but I’d hold on tightly to my knives. Apparently Gandalf and the king felt similarly, because they both regarded the high lord with skepticism. That merely deepened Lord Elrond’s smile.

“I expect him to listen to reason no more than you do. But given how much hurt he has done, I am willing to offer him the chance to do no more.”

The guardsman holding the only torch other than mine suddenly choked, and the torch was torn out of his hand and thrown into the underbrush as its bearer crumpled to the ground. As fast as we tried to react, a black shadow flitted among us, striking three of the guardsmen in rapid succession before dancing back into the shadows. The rest of us stood in a circle facing outwards. Teth stood in the middle of us; he’d been wounded badly enough that his left arm was useless, so I thrust the torch into his right hand and he held it high for the remaining six of us.

“You cannot escape us, Finlor!” King Thranduil shouted out into the darkness. “By morn, we will have every guardsman in the realm within to find you!”

A low laugh seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. “Days will pass here before morn comes to the rest of your ruined kingdom, Thranduil the impotent. None of you will last this night to see the morn. I am faster and smarter than all of you.”

I thought I knew where the voice came from, so I slipped behind the Elves, hoping he wouldn’t see me behind them. I darted away from the group and into the shadows. With any luck, I hadn’t been seen –

“Where is the halfbreed?” the disembodied voice demanded. “Show yourself, or another of you will die.”

“He ran into the shadows when you attacked,” Lord Elrond said calmly. “Did you not see him? He ran right towards you.”

“No, he didn’t. Show yourself, mongrel, if you want to save the life of your comrades.”

“He will not appear,” the king countered, moving roughly in the direction of the voice. “He obeys our commands, not yours, and it is his single duty to find you and kill you. The only way to avoid that is to surrender yourself to us.”

A snort. “A pity for you, then, and a pleasure for me. I have ruined this kingdom, and now I will kill its king.”

A shadow darted in from the side, not where the voice had seemed to come from, and Lord Elrond was pushed violently into the king, staggering them both. Teth dropped the torch and tried to seize the dark-clad figure that had put a knife into Lord Elrond, but he was only partially successful. In the flickering torchlight, it was hard to know where to strike. Finlor took full advantage of the confusion to hook King Thranduil’s legs out from under him, and before I could gasp he had the king on his back and straddled him. He put his knife to the king’s throat.

“Tell the mongrel to come out with empty hands...” Finlor began.

I knew how that ultimatum would end, so I gathered myself before I heard the end of it. I’d leaped with my knife held high above my head in my left hand when I heard the expected words.

“... or I will kill the king and the high Elf lord after him.”

On Finlor’s last word, my blade rammed home between his ribs, up to the hilt. I grabbed his right hand to knock his knife away from the king’s throat.

“ _Flas skator-u, kurvanog nar thos,_ ” I spat, jerking my knife hard to make a good blow better. Finlor spasmed under me as my knife reached his heart, and I shoved him off the king before he died. When he breathed his last, and finally lay dead, I met the king’s eyes.

“It’s a fucking good thing you didn’t manage to assassinate me, isn’t it?”

The king had the grace to smile sheepishly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Flas skator-u, kurvanog nar thos! = Tell it to hell, fucking eunuch! (that paradoxical Dwarvish insult, again)


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Here's a short chapter about what happens after a horrible night spent fighting a remorseless and amoral alchemist. The atmosphere lightens (except for the smoke), sanity prevails, and our intrepid party takes care of the injured.
> 
> Kili's swearing gets a small smile out of the king of the Woodland Realm, too.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the letting down!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> shemator kautar = ugly squirrel (Orcish)  
> dahaut = shit (Orcish)  
> kurvanog = fucking (Orcish)  
> barathar ha’ak = bloody dog (Khazuduhl)  
> Ada = Dad (Sindarin)  
> kurvanog shakutarbik = fucking Dwarf (Orcish)  
> undur kurv = ugly bastard (lit., fat whore) (Orcish)

I wasn’t entirely aware of what happened after I finished Finlor. I was exhausted, and it was so very easy to find a nice Elvish garden bench to lie on and let everything go for a bit. The comings and goings of Elves faded to a pleasantly remote murmur, and the stone bench felt as soft as wafting clouds. But after some time, someone’s voice slipped through the fog.

“Kíli?”

“Hmm?”

“Sit up, my boy.”

My body obeyed, though my mind was still in a stupor. “Um... what for...?”

“Drink some water, Kíli. You’ll feel better for it.”

“One of those ham buns would be just the tick... are there any left?” I mumbled, taking the carafe that appeared in my hands and draining it in a single gulp. That woke me up a bit, and I blinked my eyes open. Gandalf sat beside me on the bench. “Oh. Gandalf. Is it over now?”

He smiled. “The crisis is over, yes. We have quite the aftermath to handle, but you needn’t worry about that yet. Come; let us return to the main cavern. I’m sure you’d like to find your family.”

My lips curved up. “I would. And we have a lot of friends to tend.”

“We certainly do. I compliment you on your bold move to save King Thranduil.”

I rubbed my face, and shrugged. “Finlor was going to stick the king, no matter what. You know that.”

“I do. More to the point, the king knew it, too. As you reminded him so pointedly, you could have left him to Finlor’s knife, given his earlier attempt to have you assassinated. He is most grateful that you did not return the favor in kind.”

I snorted as I got off the bench and walked with Gandalf through the door and back into the vast wine stores. I grabbed a ham bun from a basket full of them and crammed half of it in my mouth. “I hope he’s ready to be more than grateful about it.”

Gandalf looked down at me curiously. “Do you seek something from the king in return?”

“I certainly fucking do. I want two things from that _shemator kautar_.”

“And what are they?”

“I want that smug bastard to negotiate with me in good faith to rebuild the Old Forest Road, so the Dwarves and the Elves don’t kill each other over this emigration _dahaut_. As you say, the Free Folk are better together than apart, no matter what either of them thinks. And I want three days, three whole bloody days, in the _Glawar-galad_ with my wife and daughter, where nobody needs any jewelry or knife work or corridor running. I need a _kurvanog_ holiday.”

“I think I can arrange for both of those,” King Thranduil answered. His voice actually sounded amused, and when I turned around, he sat atop the wine stewards’ table, smiling. It was a faint, pained expression, given that an Elvish healer had stripped the top of his leathers from him and was wrapping a raft of bandages around his ribs. He’d taken several wounds, and was even paler than usual, but he wasn’t the only one. Lord Elrond sat next to him, also pale, also being attended. A little further on, Teth lay on a stretcher having _athelas_ packed into a long gash along his shoulder. He looked bleached white and cut to ribbons, but he sent me a conspiratorial grin all the same.

Chagrined, I swallowed my mouthful of bun and offered the king a bow of apology. “I’m sorry, King Thranduil. I shouldn’t have called you those names. Dwarvish ways are more... unrestrained than Elvish ones, and I meant no insult. Since I’ve been here, I’ve seen how hard it is to be a king, and having a _barathar_ _ha’ak_ like Finlor in your midst didn’t make it easier. I do hope we can work out together what’s best for both our folk, and I would like a few days to be with my wife and daughter. But I can put both of those aside until we see to all our injured folk, Lord Elrond’s as well as so many of yours. They come first, and I offer my help however you can use it.”

The king’s brow wrinkled as he considered my words, but I’d meant them, and maybe he saw past my Dwarvish delivery to know that. He nodded appreciation.

“I thank you for remembering my folk. We will see to them, and then we will have the... forthright negotiation you seek.”

I bowed again, not bothering to hide my grin. “I look forward to it.”

The king’s stitches and bandages were finished, and he slid off the table gingerly, carrying his leather tunic in his hand. Lord Elrond’s wrappings were done, too, so the two battered rulers were ready to go back to the main levels of the cavern. I stood beside Teth’s stretcher as two guardsmen took it up, but he called to the king before he left ahead of us.

“I wanted to return Icicle to you, my lord,” Teth indicated the sword at his hip. “She is a wonderful blade, and I return her to your keeping with my thanks. It was an honor to bear her.”

King Thranduil unbuckled Icicle’s harness from Teth’s side carefully, taking pains not to disturb my friend’s wounds. “It was my honor to have you beside me, Tethrandil. Kíli is not the only one to save my life tonight, and I am grateful to you.”

Teth’s smile was pleased, but also mischievous as he winked at me. “It was a rare opportunity to be a king, and no amount of stitches and bandages would have made me miss it.”

The king chuckled, and clasped Teth’s healthy shoulder in appreciation. Then we trouped slowly up to the main hall.

The scene that greeted us was sad, indeed. The stench of smoke was everywhere, and the air at the top of the hall was a greyish-blue haze. The shattered lamp still lay in the center of the tessellated floor, and wounded Elves lay around it. Blood obscured many of the beautiful floor tiles, and scorch marks marred the stonework above the door to our room down the guest suite hallway. While healers and guardsmen, Tauriel and Rhiannel among them, rushed back and forth, triage had barely gotten started, and many Elves hadn’t been seen to yet. A stir went up when we came into the hall, and Legolas looked up from the conversation he was having with a pair of guardsmen. He turned back to the Elves long enough to send them about their duties, and then came running over to us.

“ _Ada_!” the prince called, smiling in relief. “ _Ada_! You’re alive!”

The prince hugged his father gingerly, but only in deference to King Thranduil’s wounds. Legolas had come through our ordeal relatively unscathed, but he was black with soot, and his clothes were charred and torn. The king wrapped his arms around his son and held him close.

“Is Finlor dead, then?” Legolas asked.

The king nodded. “He is dead. It took all of us to make it so, but Kíli had the honor of the final blow.”

“I am not surprised,” Legolas cocked his head and considered me with a smile. “Thank you, Kíli! Lord Elrond, Teth, Gandalf, I am relieved that you survived, as well.”

“Tell me how things stand here,” the king asked Legolas, and as the prince talked, Lord Elrond looked to Gandalf and me.

“There are many more wounded than healers,” he observed. “The three of us can help to even those odds.”

The Elves bearing Teth’s stretcher bore him away, and the rest of us went to work. Even as tired as I was, it wasn’t in me to leave folk to bleed while I took my rest, so I found a basin to wash the blood from my hands, and then a suture kit, and the Elvish healers sent me hither and yon to stitch the simpler wounds. Tauriel and Rhiannel worked similarly, and I greeted both with relief. Tauriel and I indulged in a quick hug and kiss, and she pointed to where Míriel rested in her cradle against the wall, but the needs of so many injured Elves precluded more than that. It was awful to see how many slashes, gashes, and slices even the flightiest of flitter-wits bore, some quite serious. Many in the Woodland Realm would bear blatant reminders of Finlor and the poisonous dreamflower necklace for years to come.

As I worked, I watched the ebb and flow of folk through the hall. King Thranduil was not a skilled healer as Lord Elrond was, but he moved among the injured Elves despite his wounds. At times he helped a healer hold a bandage in place, but more often he soothed one injured Elf or another to better bear the pain of the healer’s attentions, or offered solace and encouragement to the frightened and dazed. That was something I expected from Lord Elrond, and the high lord did offer such attention to the injured. But the king showed that he knew how to be the best of rulers, too, keeping up the spirits of his folk despite their suffering. There was hope for him yet.

In time, we attended all of the wounded. The healers sent those with minor injuries back to their apartments to rest. As the guardsmen carefully bore the seriously injured to the places of healing, the hall slowly cleared, and I found Rhiannel and Giriel sitting together against the wall. Giriel had the broken ribs that I’d suspected, and her temple was bandaged where Finlor had struck her with the necklace, but she was alert. Rhiannel’s cheek was purple from my backhand, and he had the usual bumps and bruises, but he was otherwise unhurt. They had King Thranduil’s sword with them.

“We saved Needle for you to give back to the king, Kíli,” Rhiannel explained. “We found her lying in the middle of the carnage, and thought the king might be persuaded to look more kindly on your negotiation if you gave her back to him.”

I chuckled. “You are the best of friends, both of you. I can give her back to him if you like, but it’s all right if you want to do so yourself.”

“What?” Giriel narrowed her eyes at me. “Why? Oh, Kíli, did you do something like save the king’s life?”

“Something like that.”

“Oh, Valar, you didn’t!” Giriel demanded incredulously, drawing Rhiannel’s laughter. “Did you kill the bastard alchemist, too? You did, didn’t you?”

“I sort of did both at the same time,” I admitted, happy to be alive and savoring my outrageous friend’s outrage. “You take Needle back. The king’s getting tired of thanking me for things. Let him thank you two for keeping Needle safe.”

“You _kurvanog shakutarbik,_ ” Giriel shook her head. She looked at her _amrâlimê_. “I’d like having a king thank us for something. Come, Rhiannel. Help me off the floor.”

“Have either of you seen Lindir? He’s the only Orc Spawn I haven’t found yet,” I said, as Rhiannel and I eased Giriel to her feet. Both of my friends looked at me so soberly that I tensed. “Oh, no – what happened? How badly is he hurt?”

“Finlor stabbed him six times,” Rhiannel revealed in a grave tone. “Twice quite badly. The healers took him off to the surgery early on.”

“Lindir was the one who got Finlor’s ring of invisibility off him,” Giriel growled. She swallowed hard. “That _undur kurv_ kept stabbing him, but our quiet prince of parchment and paper held on like a pit hound until he got the ring off. Even after Lindir threw the ring across the room – Rhiannel chased it down, and it’s in his pocket – Finlor kept stabbing him. Teth finally drove him off with Icicle. He saved Lindir’s life... what was left of it.”

I was left speechless. Our retiring bookworm, stabbed within an inch of the next realm? “I’m running out of curses for that bloody alchemist. Does Lord Elrond know?”

“I told him,” Rhiannel nodded. “He went to find Lindir as soon as I told him. I hope that bodes well. No one heals as well as he does.”

“That’s a good sign,” I said, more to keep up my spirits than anything else. “Eh, go see King Thranduil. He’s gotten a good accounting from all of us, today. I’ll bet you can get a wizard’s thanks, too, when you give Gandalf that invisibility ring. I thought he had it, and he’s probably frantic that he doesn’t.”

“I will give the ring to Gandalf,” Rhiannel agreed.

My friends moved slowly away. I watched them bring the sword to King Thranduil, who accepted her with gratitude and a relieved smile. Gandalf was also quite effusive in his thanks when Rhiannel gave him the ring that Finlor had used to such devastating effect, and when they moved away he had a satisfied smile on his face. So did I, when I sensed a certain fierce Elf maid come up behind me.

“The tale is that you saved the king’s life,” my _amrâlimê_ said softly, with a smile.

I grinned, and turned to face her. “Being the shortest one in the realm was finally good for something. I was the only one who could sneak into the shadows without being seen.”

Tauriel stroked my hair, and I savored her touch all the more after what we’d endured. I pressed a kiss on her palm, and enfolded her in a hug just to remind myself that she had survived unscathed.

“I don’t know about you Elves, but I’m knackered. I’ve got just enough in me to see how Teth and Lindir are doing, and then I need to sleep before I fall down.”

“Our room is full of smoke and soot, and not fit to sleep in.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m so tired, even the floor looks soft.”

“You will not have to make do on a floor, _a’maelamin_ ,” Tauriel’s soft voice assured me. “Come. We will see Teth and Lindir, and we will find our rest.”

Tauriel gathered Míriel into her arms, and we made our way to the surgery, where we found Teth first. He lay on a soft pallet in a ward with other wounded, already in that unique trance that would speed his healing to an amazing rate. As he looked peaceful and comfortable, we didn’t disturb him. Lindir was not in any of the wards, but one of the Elvish healers directed us to one of the private healing chambers reserved for the most seriously injured. In the alcove outside Lindir’s door was a table bearing a tray of stuffed buns and a samovar of hot, fragrant tea so the healers could refresh themselves whenever they had a spare moment. There stood Lord Elrond, helping himself to a bun and tea. I handed Tauriel a bun and took two for myself as we asked about our friend.

“Yes, he is badly hurt,” Lord Elrond confirmed. The high lord looked as tired as I’d ever seen him, but his expression was serene as he drank his tea. “He will be in healing trance for some days, I expect. But he will recover.”

“Does he need anything?” I asked anxiously. “Anyone to do for him? Can we help him at all?”

“I have seen to him, and the Woodland healers are tending him well,” Lord Elrond assured us. “I will watch over him for the rest of the night. Our friend will recover, if slowly. Take this time to restore yourselves. The next several days will be busy.”

“Then we shall see you at breakfast, my lord,” Tauriel bowed. “And please, when Lindir wakes, offer him our best wishes.”

“Of course. He will be glad of them.”

“It... might be luncheon before I see you,” I amended with a sheepish smile. “It’s only four or five hours until dawn, and I don’t promise to be awake by then. Unless you need me for something, of course.”

“Restore yourself completely,” was Lord Elrond’s generous reply. “That will allow some of us to eat a full breakfast in peace before a ravenous Dwarf descends upon the table.”

“Truth,” I admitted freely, laughing. “Until later, then, my lord. And with all due respect, remember to take your own rest, too.”

“I will be most grateful to!” the high lord said emphatically, chuckling as he finished his tea and took another bun before he returned to Lindir’s side.

Tauriel led us back to the main hall, where I polished off my pair of buns. We collected Míriel’s cradle and most of our baggage, and then Tauriel led me away from the wreckage.

“Where are we going, _amrâlimê_?” I asked, frowning as I recognized the hallway leading to the king’s private apartments. “We’re not bunking on the king’s floor, are we?”

“No,” Tauriel shook her head. Elves may not need to sleep the way I did, but her face was lined and weary, and she was as ready for rest as I was. “We shall ‘bunk,’ as you call it, in the bed of the Woodland Realm’s former captain of the guards.”

“Your room?” I asked, as she led us past the guards and doorman and antechamber, through the private salon, to a doorway off that private salon, where we came into a more austere chamber. The rug and hangings were still silk, and the furniture was still honeyed wood, but none were as ornately decorated as the rest of the king’s apartment was. It was spare, but elegant, airy, and comfortable, as befitted its occupant. Tauriel put her load of baggage down, and went through to the next room, a small bedchamber. I followed along behind with Míriel’s cradle, setting it down next to the bed. Someone had known we were coming, because fresh bed linens awaited us. Once we tucked Míriel into her cradle with her blanket and doll, I nearly climbed into that inviting pile of blankets and quilts and fresh linen, clothes, boots, filth, and all, so tired was I. But Tauriel opened the door to the third chamber in her suite, and there was the bathing chamber she’d told me about. She went in to turn on the taps, and then returned to me.

“I know you are exhausted, but a hot bath will wash away the dirt so that I can tend your wounds, and then you can sleep with much more ease.”

“I don’t have anything for you to tend, but a hot bath still sounds wonderful. You’d better get in with me to keep me from drowning when I fall asleep, though. That’s likely what will happen as soon as the hot water hits me.”

“That may be a risk I will run with you, Kíli,” Tauriel admitted. “This has been the longest and most agonizing of days, and one I am well ready to forget for a little while.”

By the time we helped each other out of our armor and clothing, the bath was full, and Tauriel gratefully climbed into the hot water. This bathing tub was smaller than the one in our house in Imladris, so once Tauriel arranged herself at one end, I settled with my back against her chest. Her arms went around me, and we rested together for a while, letting the ache of muscles and sting of minor scrapes and gashes ease. Eventually, we soaped ourselves clean from head to toe, then rested a while longer until I was all but asleep. I must have managed to climb out of the tub and dry off before I fell into bed, but I didn’t remember doing so. My last conscious thought before I fell asleep for good was of nestling close to my sweet wife with her head on my shoulder, and her arm across my chest. Her touch was balm after so much horror, and I drew her close. No treasure I would ever find in Middle Earth would compare to my fierce Elf warrior maid, and I was grateful beyond words that she was here with me.


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Now that a certain alchemist is no more, we get a short respite with our intrepid band. Gandalf, however, still has much to worry about. Finlor may be dead, but he left a host of troubling puzzles behind that need looking into. While the Orc Spawn wait for Teth and Lindir to heal, Lord Elrond heads off to convince King Thranduil to see the puzzles solved. That's the perfect time for Gandalf to set the Orc Spawn loose in Finlor's workshop to see what treasures they can uncover.
> 
> Along the way, our youngest Orc Spawn learns some new words, and uses them to express her opinion about her father's choice of bairn hair styles.
> 
> Enjoy the breather!

I lay next to Kíli, listening to the soft throb of his heart as he fell asleep. It beat steadily and strongly under my ear, and with each beat I counted myself among the most fortunate of creatures in Middle Earth. My _a’maelamin_ , my _amrâlimê_ , my one true love, had survived the worst attack the Woodland Realm had endured in centuries. He hadn’t even suffered many wounds. Even after he’d washed the soot and sweat away, revealing only a few scratches, if that, I had not truly believed my good fortune. Only now, listening to his heart, did I feel reassured that he was hale and healthy.

I had overheard a guardsman who had survived Finlor’s final attack describe to a comrade what had happened in the _Glawar-galad_. Kíli’s bravery and quick thinking were no surprise to me (nor was his pointed and profane jab at the king about a certain abortive assassination attempt). I was extremely proud of my husband, of course, and knew he was the best of warriors. But the Elves of the Woodland Realm were skilled warriors, too, yet Finlor’s attack had cost many Elves their lives and had wounded many more. Even the king, as consummate a warrior as there was, had nearly lost his life to someone I had expected to be more cerebrally adept than physically. The high cost our folk had paid all night to strip him of his known magical advantages had still left him well able to fight beyond our physical abilities. If Finlor hadn’t been so eager to kill the king, he could have evaded us for far longer. Perhaps he even could have escaped and fled the kingdom to wreak more destruction elsewhere. This hint of more than Elvish powers was worrying, so I resolved to ask Gandalf about it come the morn.

Morn, however, was some time away, and I was as exhausted as Kíli. I believed that I might have followed him into sleep, so weary was I. Or perhaps my weariness was so profound that I fell into a few moments of healing trance. Whatever the case, I lay beside my husband for a long time, letting the starlight that shone outside the cavern restore me, for all that I didn’t see it.

Beside the bed, Míriel rested just as gratefully in her cradle. The pull of the dragon’s necklace had frightened and hurt her badly. If I hadn’t been so exhausted, I would have rested with her in my arms to reassure us both. But the deep rest was good for each of us, and Míriel showed no distress.

Some hours later, when Míriel stirred in her cradle, I collected her and laid her between Kíli and me. She settled at once with a contented smile and the funny, cross-eyed look she got when she restored herself. Kíli didn’t stir, but his warmth and presence comforted Míriel, and she was happy to continue her rest.

I drifted for some time longer, musing about the turn of events that had put me back in my old quarters with a handsome Dwarf husband and a winsome daughter beside me. This had been my home for centuries, but as grand as it was, it had never felt like home the way our comfortable house in Imladris did now. Still, I admit that the still atmosphere of my Woodland suite was much more bearable with my family here.

Finally, closer to noon than dawn, Míriel stirred and cooed softly, ready to start the day. I took her to the reading couch to suckle. It was telling that she went right to my breast without looking about for solid food as she’d come to do, especially when Kíli was in attendance – he fed her shamelessly, until every time his hand strayed near her, she opened her mouth. She’d had a frightening day yesterday, however, and today she was happy to cuddle and act the babe with me. When she was full and had filled her diaper, we splashed quietly in the bathing tub. Kíli finally roused when we were almost done, padding in yawning and stretching. He was naked, gloriously so, which gave me something to savor as I cradled Míriel in the water.

“My agent of the Valar has come to grace us, Míriel,” I told my daughter. “See how handsome your Tada is?”

Kíli gave me a crooked grin. “I would have had a much easier life as a lad if maids had looked at me then the way you look at me now. When you look at me like that, I think I can do anything.”

“You must come and play with Míriel in the bath, then,” I teased. “She will coo at you with complete adoration when you make waves for her.”

Kíli didn’t wait for me to get out, but clubbed his hair and squeezed himself into the other end of the tub with Míriel between us. “What if I make waves for you? Will you coo at me, too?”

“Hmm. Perhaps I will make the waves, just to see what you will do.”

Kíli’s grin was frisky. “Valar, maid, I’ll do anything you want, and several things you wouldn’t think to want, but will once I start.”

Whether by accident or design, Míriel made a rude noise that made us both laugh. “Our babe is not impressed, it seems.”

Kíli’s grin didn’t diminish. “Doesn’t matter, as long as you are.” He pushed small wavelets of water at Míriel for her to splash, which she did so busily. “Here, Miri. You have your waves, and all is well in the world."

“Wadu,” Míriel pronounced emphatically, meaning the water. We played quietly for a while longer, then I got out to dry while I watched Kíli and Míriel splash and giggle at each other. At length, Kili soaped Míriel gently clean, and gave himself a quick onceover before he lifted Míriel up for me to enfold in a clean towel. Míriel liked to pull the towel over her head and pretend to hide in it, and by the time Kíli was dry she was ready for her morning crawl over the carpet. Kíli teased me into a swift, surreptitious coupling under the bedcovers while Míriel rolled around with her squeaky ball, and our giggling didn’t seem to distract her from her determined pursuit. But the world outside my old quarters beckoned us, and we soon gathered ourselves to face it. We put on our tough traveling tunics, trews or leggings, and sturdy boots, all things that would allow us to work. Míriel was happy to put on comfortable smock, leggings, and house boots, but did not want Kíli to put her hair up into the silly topknot he liked.

“No, Tada, no!” she tried to push his fingers away from her hair, and struggled to get off his lap and onto the bed. “No!”

“And so it starts,” Kíli gave me a knowing look as he let Míriel crawl onto the bed. “ ‘No’ will be her favorite word from now on.”

“Bewy cumble,” she said with certainty, meaning her favorite treat. Kíli’s eyes widened and he looked at Míriel with delight.

“It’s amazing – she understands what we say! She’s becoming a maid rather than a lump!”

I put my arms akimbo. “Did you call our daughter a lump?”

Kíli snickered gleefully. “When I was three, Fíli had me convinced that bairns came out with arms and a head, but not legs. He said they were like tadpoles – legs didn’t come until later. It made sense – bairns didn’t wear pants, did they? They wore gowns, because they didn’t have anything to put in the pant legs. They were lumps – not finished yet. _Maamr_ laughed and laughed when I explained that to her.”

I laughed, too, then sobered when I realized how good it was to laugh after yesterday’s events. Kíli caught my mood change, and held his hand out to me as he sat on the bed with Míriel. When I took it, he pressed a kiss onto the back of my hand.

“We’ll set things right after yesterday, _amrâlimê_. Don’t worry.”

I sat beside him to press a kiss on his temple. “We will. Then we will settle your treaty. And then we can go home. To Imladris.”

Kíli’s arm slipped around my waist. “It’s both wonderful and sad how both of us think as Imladris as home. Not the Blue Mountains. Not Erebor. Not the Woodland Realm.”

“I prefer to think about the wonderful, because it cures the sad.”

Kíli hummed. “That’s a good way to approach it. The only thing I miss about the Blue Mountains is Fíli, and he’s gone, so I’d miss him wherever I settled. How I would have loved to see his face the first time Míriel pulled those mustache braids he was so proud of.” He slid an impish glance at me. “Maybe we can convince her to pull her Uncle Legolas’s hair instead.”

I snickered. “Do you remember when she pulled Lindir’s hair when we stayed with Beorn? The poor Elf didn’t know what to do.”

“Lindir,” Kíli said with purpose. “That’s what I want to do as soon as I find breakfast. I want to see how he’s doing. And Teth.”

“Then let us find breakfast, and then our friends.”

“Bewy cumble,” Míriel murmured again, drawing her parent’s laughter.

I suspected that we would not find our daughter so funny when she decided to comment about something we didn’t want her to hear, such as our indulgences with each other. I wondered what the Woodland Realm would say when I asked for a new suite with two resting chambers. It was time for Míriel to have her own room.

 

* * *

 

Tauriel led us out of her suite, through the king’s salon, and out into the main part of the cavern. Because she’d spent so much time with Míriel this morning while I slept, I carried our daughter now. She was no burden, if truth were told. To savor the small, wiggling body of my daughter after yesterday’s rigors was to forget that horror and remember the good of the world. The cavern was doing its best to forget those horrors, too, for the main hall was much restored, if not fully. The blood had been mopped away, and craftsmen tended to the few broken tessellations. Others worked to smooth chips in the limestone pillars and walls. The broken lamp glass had been swept up, and Elves were bearing the remains of the iron framework away as we came into the hall. When that was gone, the empty place for the broken lamp on the ceiling would be the only obvious physical reminder of the devastation that Finlor had wrought. I hoped that that would be a comfort to the Elves who had long memories to match their long lives. If I were king, I’d replace the lamp posthaste, then stage a party with so much singing and dancing and feasting that people would talk about that and forget the malice of a sinister alchemist.

The dining hall had been arranged for the craftsmen with a lavish buffet, and tables where they could eat at their leisure, so I put Míriel on my hip and eagerly took up a plate. I followed Tauriel down the table, and she obligingly put one thing or another on my plate as I asked, and then we perched Míriel on a tabletop between us as we ate. We’d learned not to put our plates so close to Míriel that she could grab anything. She liked porridge, so I spooned up some of mine for her while I wolfed down a stack of savory ham buns. There was no berry crumble, but the sweet buns were fine with Míriel, so I put a tiny morsel or two on the cloth beside her so she could help herself in between bites of porridge. Even Tauriel, usually a light eater as all Elves were compared to Dwarves, ate more than her usual. It was good to feel full again.

We saw none of our friends during our meal, so we went down to the healing halls to ask after Teth and Lindir. Lord Elrond wasn’t there, but Giriel was, and she waved to us with a wide smile. She’d been reading on a bench off to the side, but jumped up and came to us.

“I was about to think that both of you would sleep the day away!” she smiled, swooping Míriel into her arms. “Hello, Miri! What can you say to your Auntie Giriel today? Can you say apple crumble?”

“No,” Míriel replied firmly, drawing our laughter. “Bewy cumble.”

“ ‘No’ is her new word,” Tauriel admitted. “Kíli says that we will soon be very tired of hearing it before long.”

Giriel made a funny face and shook her head at Míriel. “I cannot imagine anyone getting tired of hearing you talk, Míriel. Can you?”

“No,” she said, right on cue.

“Why are you down here?” I asked, when we stopped laughing. “Are Teth and Lindir awake yet? Can we see them?”

“Both are still in healing trance,” Giriel shook her head. “Lord Elrond said that Teth might be awake late today, but Lindir will likely be in trance for another two or three days. That _kurvanog_ _Uruk_ pierced Lindir’s lung, and that kind of wound takes a long time to heal. Even so, Lord Elrond felt that he was doing very well, and took himself off to other duties for a while. I came down here to wait for you. I knew you’d both want to see our friends as soon as you woke.”

“Can we do anything to help them?” I asked.

“Nothing until they wake,” Giriel assured me, and Tauriel nodded in agreement. “Then we can take turns sitting with them for the next day or so, or reading to them if they like.”

“You look for us, you said?” Tauriel asked.

“I do.” Giriel kissed Míriel’s nose to make her giggle. “Gandalf has asked for you both, as soon as you were awake. He and Rhiannel are in Finlor’s suite.”

“I think I remember how to get there,” I considered. “We’ll head there now.”

With Giriel and Míriel in tow, Tauriel and I found our way through the cavern to Finlor’s rooms. A pair of Woodland Elves stood guard outside the open door, but they passed us through without challenge to the salon. It was empty, so I took a more leisurely look around to see what I’d overlooked last night. This was a sumptuous room, but subtly so, for it took a discerning eye to appreciate how sumptuous it was. Tauriel realized right away, though, starting with the carpet.

“Look at this,” she knelt down to run her hand over the pile. “Better yet, feel this. Not even King Thranduil has a carpet made with such finely spun silk. And this design that is so finely woven? Only the fingers of the smallest children of Men can weave thus. This carpet is from Harad, then, the only land that makes such things.”

“The Woodland Realm has trade treaties with Harad?” Rhiannel asked in surprise, appearing in the doorway from an inside room. “That land must be at least eight or nine hundred miles from here.”

“At least,” Tauriel replied, looking up from the carpet. “And the Woodland Realm has no trade treaties with Harad for anything other than a few spices and fruits. They are devious, and the king does not like dealing with such untrustworthy folk.”

“So Finlor had it smuggled in,” I guessed. “Smuggling is a moneymaking proposition if you’re willing to risk losing everything if you get caught. Some caravans I tended verged on that. There’s nothing you can’t get if you’re willing to pay for it.”

“By all appearances, Finlor was willing to pay quite a lot,” Tauriel observed, moving from the carpet to the draperies. “This is also the finest silk, and beautiful without any other adornment. But there are tiny gem chips sewn into it.” She drew back an edge of the drapery and let it go; as the silk billowed and settled, it sparkled here and there in the lamplight, like stars glimmering in the early night sky. From the nearby table, she picked up a large metalwork bowl that mimicked a woven basket, so large that she needed both hands to hold it. “This is not silver. It is mithril, with pale blue sapphires studding the intersections of the woven pieces.”

I went to look at it, turning it around in my hands. “I’d need to look at the gems with a lens to make sure, but from the color I don’t think those are sapphires. They’re paler. They look like rare blue diamonds. What’s the point? You wouldn’t put fruit in this, and it won’t hold water or flowers or spices, so it’s just a decoration. Pretty enough, but not worth the expense, to my mind.”

Tauriel shook her head. “Everything here is even more exorbitantly expensive than it looks.”

Giriel wrinkled her nose in disgust. “This room is just like the name he gave himself. ‘Lofty one.’ It wasn’t enough for him to display riches that everyone noticed. He had this even more expensive and exclusive layer hidden in plain sight that only he knew about. The snotty bastard was telling everyone he was so much better than they were, and they never knew it.”

“Why would anyone seek this Elf’s favor?” Rhiannel asked. “He sounds insufferable.”

“He had a very large clientele,” Gandalf said, coming in behind Rhiannel. The wizard carried a large register in his hands. “Good morn to you, my friends. Welcome to the snake’s lair.”

“A very expensive lair,” I amended. “Tauriel was just explaining some of the finer details to us.”

“Indeed,” Gandalf agreed, hefting the ledger in his hands. “Paid for by the gullibility and foolishness of his clients, I’m afraid. He had rather a lot of them.”

“How many?” I asked. “I thought we collected over two hundred of his little trinkets last night.”

Gandalf looked decidedly disgruntled as he came into the room and sat down on one of the elegant settees. His rough grey robes looked incongruous on the luxurious velvet. “So we did, my boy. He seemed to keep meticulous notes, our Finlor. If this ledger is correct, we have collected less than half of his so-called ‘little trinkets.’”

“Oh, Valar,” Tauriel murmured in dismay as the rest of us found seats around Gandalf. “Only half?”

“Fully half remain to be accounted for.”

Giriel snorted. “Does King Thranduil know?”

“He is about to. Lord Elrond just left to tell him.”

“What do you think the king will do, Gandalf?” I asked.

“I do not know. But I know what I would do,” the wizards said testily. “I would scour the cavern until every one of them is accounted for, and then I would destroy them all.”

“How do you destroy a magic thing?” Rhiannel wondered, looking at Giriel and Míriel beside him on the settee.

“That is why I sent for you, Kíli,” Gandalf gave me a long look. “A smith is what we’ll need to remove the gems and melt down the metal, and I would prefer if you were that smith. A Dwarf smith is not as susceptible to the blandishments that these dangerous pieces pose as Elvish smiths are. So if King Thranduil will agree that he and this kingdom are better off rid of these things, I will press you into service to see it done.”

I nodded. “I’m glad to help however I can, but... there’s more than a small chance that my father is Elvish, Gandalf. You need to know in case that adds to an already serious problem.”

Gandalf waved his hand at me, but his eyes were on one of the ledger pages. “Of course your father is Elvish, my boy, but now is not the time to worry that bone. It doesn’t matter here, in any case. Tauriel, we will need your help in this, as well.”

“I am at your disposal, as always,” Tauriel said, looking at me in mystery as much about Gandalf’s comment about my parentage as what he’d ask her to do.

“Good. I’ve had a word with Legolas, and he is of the same opinion as I am about the menace of these things. He will help Lord Elrond convince King Thranduil to be rid of them. Once he does, I suggested that Legolas would find the Orc Spawn willing to help sweep the cavern. Once Tethrandil and Lindir are awake, they can help us cross-reference the pieces we have already collected with Finlor’s records. Tauriel, you can help Legolas identify the Elves who have the outstanding pieces, and then you, Giriel, and Rhiannel can accompany Legolas to see them collected. Kíli can experiment with the ones we’ve already collected to see if the gems can be preserved and the gold reused.”

“And... Legolas is amenable to this?” Tauriel ventured.

That drew an impish smile from the wizard. “I mentioned that ridding the kingdom of these pieces would likely result in a serious reduction in the court’s proclivity to posture and pose. He was most interested in that.”

Tauriel smiled. “I well understand his eagerness. It would be a most welcome improvement.”

“So it would,” was Gandalf’s emphatic reply. “Now, we can do very little until King Thranduil decides whether he will listen to reason about these things or not. In the meantime, it would be a great help to me if all of you would help me look through Finlor’s working chambers. We need to understand just what supplies he had. I especially want to find the dragon’s blood he seeded into his rings. King Thranduil will know what to do with that.”

“Does dragon’s blood have any beneficial uses?” Rhiannel asked.

“I hope the king can tell us that. Lindir, when he awakes, can likely tell us something, too; he’s very well read. Still, we have a few days to wait before we can ask him, or so Lord Elrond tells me, though he spoke very positively of Lindir’s improvement.

“Now,” Gandalf looked around at us, “let us see what we can find within the lair of our sinister alchemist.”

Gandalf led us into the pair of rooms that had been where Finlor had practiced his art. One was a storeroom with shelves packed floor to ceiling with goods; the other was a well-equipped workroom. Gandalf put me to work surveying the workroom, seeing if the display of tools told me anything about the processes Finlor had undertaken; Tauriel, Rhiannel, and Giriel concentrated on the storeroom. We took turns keeping Míriel entertained in the salon, for it was too dangerous for her to venture among so many bags and boxes and bottles full of one dangerous thing or another.

“I’ve found a supply ledger,” Rhiannel stuck his head out of the storeroom to announce.

“Excellent!” Gandalf rose to take the ledger from my comrade.

“I took a quick page through it,” Rhiannel continued. “I didn’t see dragon’s blood listed, but there are so many substances on the shelves that it could be there and we haven’t found it yet. Or it may be hidden elsewhere.”

Gandalf was perusing the ledger. “I understand now why we didn’t find him listed as a client of any of the largest suppliers of alchemists. This is an exhaustive list of supplies, and if these quantities are correct, his visits to the suppliers would have been rare. I wonder how he came to amass such a store of things.”

I looked around from the workbench. “Those smugglers, again?”

“Perhaps so.” Gandalf considered the book for a few seconds more. “Interesting. This is another task for Teth once he is able – to see what light the import records might cast on this.”

Rhiannel took Míriel from Tauriel and found a stool near the workbench to perch with our bairn on his lap. “I mean no disrespect, Gandalf, but...”

The wizard turned his full regard on our comrade. “But what, Rhiannel?”

“I understand your concern about all that Finlor touched, Gandalf. But...” his voice lowered to just above a whisper, and all of us leaned closer to hear his soft words. “Will King Thranduil resent your reliance on solely those from Imladris to study this problem? Does that not convey a mistrust of the folk of this kingdom?”

“I do mistrust them,” Gandalf said simply, more with resignation than resentment. “I do not like doing so, but until we know for sure whether Finlor acted alone or in tandem with others, we do not know how far his corruption spreads, and which folk are trustworthy. This storeroom disquiets me. Even if Finlor acted alone, he did not amass his supplies alone. I would not have his suppliers use this moment to attack the king and this kingdom. So I will rely on those I know have no connection to Finlor, and no interest in vexing the Woodland Realm, to determine the extent of our problem. Those people are all of you. Of course, I rely on your discretion to keep your counsel about whatever we learn here. Lord Elrond is in accord with this, and I hope that we can bring the king and prince into our counsel soon enough.”

Oh and oh, that gave everyone something to think about. But Gandalf was not the only thought-provoking one in Finlor’s lair today. Tauriel had looked thoughtful through the wizard’s explanation, but her expression grew more troubled in the silence afterwards.

“Finlor’s suppliers may not be our only concern,” my wife said at last.

“You have another, then?” Gandalf questioned.

Tauriel nodded. “We had a host of experienced warriors to fight Finlor yesterday – Lord Elrond, Legolas, all of the Orc Spawn, the Woodland guard, even King Thranduil himself. The king is one of the most consummate swordsmen in Middle Earth, bar none. Yet... an alchemist and jeweler managed to kill and maim dozens of our best warriors with just a pair of knives. Even after Finlor lost his ring of invisibility, he still inflicted much more damage than he received – and he drew blood from the king, which I have never seen anyone else do. How could that be possible? Was there some dark art in play?”

Giriel came out of the storeroom to lean in the doorway. “That is a good question, Tauriel. The same thing has nipped at my thoughts all morning.”

“It is a _very_ good question,” Gandalf agreed. “It is one that Lord Elrond needs to hear. I hope that he can convince the king to see this thing through, no matter how uncomfortable it may be to ferret out all of the answers. The Woodland Realm must be secure, and until we have answers to these questions, I do not consider it to be.”

Those sober words gave me much to think about as we went back to our survey of Finlor’s lair. Our sinister alchemist might be dead, but he left more than enough worries behind him – uncounted magic talismans, shadowy maneuverings with unseen partners, and worrisome hints of dark arts. If those weren’t enough, we had yet another thorny problem that no one but me seemed to remember.

It was that cursed dreamflower necklace of poisoned dragon’s gold, of course – a necklace that no one knew how to destroy.

I sighed. I’d thought that Finlor’s death would end the turmoil in Thranduil’s kingdom, but I’d been wrong. His death was only the beginning of the end, and we still had a long way to go. If I weren’t careful, every Blue Mountain Dwarf would be two hundred years older before I ever got to negotiate a single word of a treaty with the Woodland Realm.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. It's amazing how much good a little sunshine can do. Our friends make several discoveries inside Finlor's workroom, and they receive a most welcome surprise visit. In addition, Lord Elrond and Gandalf find themselves facing several pointed questions about secret ring magic from a certain Dwarvish smith.
> 
> Enjoy the detecting!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> zog vraum = bat cave (lit., bird hole) (Orcish)  
> saukarya kurvanog andartar = evil fucking mystic (Orcish)

My heart went out to Kíli. He hadn’t moved a muscle, and his expression never twitched, but Gandalf’s assessment of Finlor’s legacy had discouraged him deeply. My husband had done everything he knew to help end the alchemist’s scourge, and the result was only to uncover more troubles. Instead of being able to work on Kíli’s treaty, now we had to juggle a possible smuggling operation, dark magical powers, and a wizard’s mistrust of an entire kingdom. Would we ever sort through everything?

But Kíli didn’t say a word, and I was the only one who noticed his restraint. Even his friends tended to forget how hard he’d worked to temper his Dwarvish impatience with Elvish manners and forbearance. When Rhiannel and Gandalf went into the storeroom to confer about something, I took Míriel in hand and sat next to Kíli as he contemplated the array of instruments on Finlor’s worktable. I stroked his back in commiseration.

“I thought being rid of Finlor would bring more resolution, too,” I said softly.

Kíli looked surreptitiously behind us, saw that our comrades were all in the storeroom, and bent his head over his folded arms, so discouraged was he. “Valar, Tauriel!” he whispered, leaning close. “Is there no end to the crises in this _zog_ _vraum_? Every Dwarf in the Blue Mountains will die of old age before I can write a single word of treaty.”

I sighed. “I feel the same way. I’m sorry, _a’maelamin_.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault but that _saukarya kurvanog andartar_.” He mustered a sigh as resigned as mine, and fluffed Míriel’s hair. “We’ll sort it out. Once Teth and Lindir are hale again, they’ll sort out the records like lightning, I’ll sort out the trinkets, and with any luck at all the king, the high lord, and the wizard will sort out any smugglers. Then we can get back to the treaty. And then we can go home.”

I’d do my best to see to it. The Orc Spawn would help, for they didn’t want to remain in this cavern through the winter any more than I did. They, in turn, would help to remind Lord Elrond that it wasn’t our duty to sort out all of King Thranduil’s problems when we had many of our own to sort through back in Imladris...

Oh, that was not true. If I were fair, my adopted city had far fewer crises than the Woodland Realm, which was largely thanks to the awareness and flexibility of our city’s able ruler. And it was more important to sort out bigger issues with an eye to the future than concede to the desires of a few Elves and a Dwarf.

Sometimes, it was tiresome to have to be responsible to all of Middle Earth. I would have much preferred to be responsible to our friends, Drennal and Fallin, and go home to attend the birth of their first babe!

Kíli gave Finlor’s worktable one more look, then exhaled. “There’s nothing else to sort out here. If Gandalf’s got that basket of trinkets from last night, I’ll start to sort through those.”

“How do you sort through a basket of magic jewelry?” I wondered.

He shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I thought I’d look at the ledger Rhiannel found to see how Finlor organized himself, and see if it suggests a way. If that doesn’t work, I can sort by color, I suppose. But Gandalf may want to sort by magical power, in which case I can’t sort them at all and he’ll have to. None of them seem like anything but rings and brooches to me.”

Gandalf came out of the storeroom in time to hear Kíli’s speculation. “I have the pieces we collected in the salon. It would be good of you to start your study of them while the rest of us look through the stores, Kíli. We have not found the dragon’s blood yet, which concerns me. But it makes sense for you to work here, to keep our efforts contained.”

I looked about the workroom. The walls and ceiling were limestone, of course, as they were in almost every room in the cavern. “Kíli, Finlor might have cached his dragon’s blood in a hidden place in the stone, just as Alathiel hid the dreamflower necklace. Perhaps your sense of the stone would show you such a niche here.”

“Excellent idea!” Gandalf beamed. “Well done, Tauriel!”

“That _is_ an excellent idea,” Kíli smiled affectionately at me. “I’ll have a look. More light would help, for starters. There’s a portal up there, but it’s shaded. Rhiannel, you’re the tallest. Can you reach it?”

Giriel dragged over a stool for her _a’maelamin_ to stand on, and they puzzled over the oculus that covered the portal. “Oh! There is a lever. I see,” Rhiannel said, and worked the mechanism. Strong light streamed down, illuminating the workroom. “There is a second one over there. We will open that one, too.”

Full sun filled the workroom, making it a much less gloomy place. I felt better basking in the sun, and I’m sure Kíli did, too. His smile brightened to feel the touch of the outside world again after so long within the cavern.

“This is wonderful,” Kíli breathed. “If I had to live in a cavern, this would be a beautiful room to do it in. The light makes so much difference!”

“It is a much more cheerful room,” Rhiannel agreed, moving to stand in the sunlight. “I had not realized how much I missed the light of Imladris.”

“I hadn’t, either,” Giriel sighed, coming to stand beside Rhiannel. “How nice to feel the warmth of the sun again.”

“The lair is transformed,” Lord Elrond said with a smile, coming into the workroom to stand with Giriel and Rhiannel. “What an apt way to diminish the aftereffects of a dark alchemist.”

“Lord Elrond,” Gandalf nodded a pleased greeting. “How went your discussion with King Thranduil? You have good news, I hope?”

“I do, indeed,” the high lord said with satisfaction. “Thranduil was as appalled as we are about the extent of Finlor’s trinkets, and he agrees that they have no place in this kingdom. He agrees with us, Mithrandir, that they must be collected and destroyed. Legolas organizes the guard to address the collection once we know what to look for. He agrees that you and Kíli should see to the dismantling of these things.”

“Most excellent, indeed!” Gandalf rubbed his hands in anticipation. “That is one of our growing list of problems closer to a solution.”

“What else has blossomed forth while I have been gone?” Lord Elrond asked, his brow wrinkling in resigned humor.

While Gandalf summarized Kíli’s smugglers, Rhiannel’s uncertainty of political protocol, my concern about the force of Finlor's knife work, and a wizard’s mistrust, Kíli prowled about the room, touching and tapping the walls. At several points, he beckoned to Rhiannel to reach up to tap parts of the cavern wall that he couldn’t reach. But the place drew his closest attention was under a walnut sideboard that sat in a niche cut into the limestone wall. The bright sunlight had chased the shadows from the niche, revealing a top figured with an intricate inlay of nacre and rare woods, carved doors, and gracefully curving legs. There seemed to be nothing underneath the sideboard, but Kíli crawled underneath it to rap at the wood paneling that sheathed the bottom half of the wall. Míriel thought this was something she should help with, and struggled to get down from my arms. I let her go, but followed close behind to make sure she didn’t stray into something untoward.

“Oh, hullo, Miri!” Kíli’s muffled voice greeted our daughter. “You want to help, too? Can you rap on the wall, then? Like this, little jewel.”

From the sounds, Míriel was enthusiastic about the task Kíli had given her. I bent down to see what they were up to.

“Anything?” I asked.

Kíli backed out from under the sideboard. “I think there’s a niche, even though it doesn’t sound like it. The paneling is so thick that it masks the sound, and there’s no obvious latch, but the stone’s got a gap underneath. Gandalf? Maybe you can look?”

“Of course,” Gandalf came quickly as Kíli rolled out of the way with Míriel against his chest. She thought that was fun, and laughed.

“Again,” she burbled. “Again, Tada!”

“We have to let Gandalf rap on the wall now, Míriel,” Kíli explained, but Míriel wasn’t happy about giving up her new game. To distract her while the wizard crawled under the sideboard, Kíli rolled to his feet, took Míriel’s hands to walk her over to another part of the paneling, and put her down in front of that. He rapped on it with an inviting smile for our daughter. “Here, Miri. Bang away happily.”

“There _is_ a latch,” Gandalf announced. “A very cunning one, but I have it in hand. There. I have it open. Now... what kind of prize is this?”

Gandalf slid himself carefully from under the sideboard. A large stoppered bottle of dark glass was cradled in his hand. I reached out to take it, but he urged me back.

“Thank you, Tauriel, but I’m not sure what this is, and better that I hold it until we know better.” As he slid further out of the niche, the bottle sloshed, and he sniffed. “Hmm. Lord Elrond, I think this calls for your knowledge of healing rather than the king’s knowledge of dragons. If you would be so kind?”

The high lord bent to take the bottle, and Gandalf slid back under the sideboard to remove another bottle. A full dozen of differing sizes and shapes were arrayed on the worktable before the niche was empty.

“Are any of them dragon’s blood?” Rhiannel asked, eying the bottles curiously.

“They are not,” Lord Elrond replied with a grim tone. He found a stack of neatly folded cloths on one of the shelves and used two to protect his hands as he carefully unstoppered one of the bottles. He sniffed, then restoppered it. He repeated those actions with two more of the bottles. “These three are poisons. I will make sure of the others, but I expect to find all of them to be equally venomous.”

“So we still haven’t found the dragon’s blood,” Giriel exhaled, her hands on her hips as she looked around. “I’d expect it to be well hidden, but as many trinkets as he made, you’d think he’d have call to use it often, and so would’ve hidden it someplace he could easily reach, but would remain hidden to anyone who came in here, not that I expect anyone did.”

Kíli sat beside Míriel as she industriously banged on the paneling, scanning the workroom with the rest of us, trying to find some place we hadn’t yet found. He frowned, and looked down at Míriel. “What did you just do, Míriel? Whatever it was, do it again.”

Míriel chirped at him inquiringly, so Kíli tapped on the wood again. “Show me where you like to pound best, Miri. Come on.”

With a big smile, Míriel set to banging again with her father.

“Oh and oh and oh, I thought so. Hold a moment, Miri. Let me see...”

I drew Míriel away so that Kíli could run his hands over the paneling. “Right here. Good, Míriel! You found something! Gandalf, would you look for a latch here, too?”

Gandalf did, and quickly got another panel open. Inside, clearly visible in the bright sun, were three large bottles of opaque black glass, each one stoppered and sealed with wax. Two of the bottles were full; from the dustiness of the wax seals and the glass, they had not been opened for some time. The third, however, was wiped clean, only partially full, and sealed with fresh wax.

Gandalf’s grunt was triumphant. “Míriel, my dear, you are a delightful addition to our ranks of investigators! Of course, we want King Thranduil to confirm it, but I believe that we have found Finlor’s cache of dragon’s blood.”

There was a step outside the workroom, and Giriel swiveled to see who had come in. Her face lit with a delighted smile.

“It’s King Thranduil – and look who he’s brought! He’s got Teth!”

“Teth?” Kíli exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. “Teth’s awake?”

We all hurried into the salon to see the king help our fellow Orc Spawn to one of Finlor’s luxurious reading couches. Teth was pale and his bandaged arm was cradled in a sling, but he was smiling as we clustered around him to tell him how much we’d missed him.

“I am not a patient patient,” Teth confessed with a perverse smile. “Several very skilled and reasonable healers wanted me to stay with them for a while longer, but when Legolas told me of what the rest of you were about up here, I had no intention of lying quietly down there. King Thranduil was instrumental in freeing me from my captivity.” Teth put his free hand to his heart. “I am grateful that you indulged me, my lord.”

Was that a smile on King Thranduil’s lips? “I was glad to assist. I was just as eager to see what our friends had uncovered as you.”

“We have uncovered many things,” Lord Elrond began, and he and Gandalf drew the king into the workroom to show him. The rest of us gathered around our friend. He was still weak, but his wounds were nearly healed, and the pain and stiffness in his shoulder and arm would lessen quickly. Our words tumbled over themselves as we tried to tell him everything, drawing his laughter.

“So now we have poisons, magical instruments, dragon’s blood, smugglers, panel pounding babes, and court intrigues to entertain us, as well as another two hundred magical talismans to find,” he shook his head, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “When will it end?”

“That’s what we all wonder,” Kíli sighed. “The Valar know when we’ll ever get to work on a treaty.”

“We’ll get there, Kíli, be sure of it,” Giriel said stoutly. “With all of us working on it, we’ll sort everything out. You’ll see.”

“I want to help,” Teth agreed. “I do not have the nose for records as our Lindir does, but until he is able to help us, I will look at the storeroom ledger and see what sense I can make from it.”

“Before you look at the storeroom ledger, there’s another way you can help,” Kíli asked. “Finlor kept another ledger for all the trinkets he made. Would you look at it, and see if it suggests some way to sort the _dahaut_ we’ve collected so far, so we know what we have and don’t have? Then we can show the king, so he knows what search for.”

“Of course,” Teth nodded. “Do you have that ledger?”

“I’ll get it,” Kíli said. He ducked into the workroom to fetch the ledger, and put it in Teth’s hands. “We need a way to match the pieces in Gandalf’s basket with the ledger entries. Maybe we could sort by color of stone, or the design.”

“I will look,” Teth settled onto the reading couch with the ledger in his hands, and Rhiannel drew up a chair next to him. Kili, Giriel, and I set the basket of trinkets in the center of the carpet and gathered around it. Míriel sat a little farther on with her doll, squeaky ball, and several of her wooden animals, but as soon as she saw the basket of sparkly gems, she of course wanted to play with them instead of her toys.

“Oh, come and play with me, Míriel,” Giriel said, crawling over to our daughter. “Those are not the pretty things the seem to be, and they will make you cranky. It’s much more fun to play catch the squeaky ball.”

“Maybe I should play with Míriel,” I said to Giriel. “These trinkets were made for Nandor Elves. Are they safe for me to touch, Kíli?”

Kíli considered the basket. “Did you touch them last night when you collected them? Didn’t all of you touch them last night? Did any of you feel anything?”

“We did touch them. I didn’t feel anything, but I didn’t put on any of the pieces either.” Giriel looked up from marching Míriel’s wooden antelope towards her to glance at Rhiannel and me, but we’d had the same experience. “Just to pick them up and put them down again seems to have caused no harm.”

Kíli hummed to himself as he chose a piece at random from the basket. Teth caught the movement, and looked back at the ledger. “The ring you have in your hand, Kíli. How would you describe it as a jeweler?”

My husband held it up to the light. “Oval cabochon ruby, likely a carat or so, in a plain gold band. A lad’s ring, not a maid’s.”

“Choose another one.”

“This one’s six faceted, dagger cut sapphires, each about half a carat, with a round, faceted peridot of about a carat in the center. It forms a flower, with green gold stems and leaves woven into the band.”

“And another?”

“Cloverleaf of three round cabochon emeralds, all about half a carat. White and green gold band.”

Rhiannel and Teth paged through the book a bit before looking at us. “The first half of the book lists the pieces by the date when he made them,” Teth said. “There is a brief description of the stone, setting, and design. The second half is more interesting. I think the entries are all duplicates of the chronological ones, but grouped somehow. It is not arranged by gem, design, or type of gold.”

Rhiannel pulled at his lip. “It is a puzzle. There are these notations, Teth,” he pointed to various places in the ledger. “I do not know what any of them mean. And these. Yet... Tauriel, would you look at this? I wonder...”

I kneeled between Teth and Rhiannel to look at the page Teth pointed to. Yes, there were groups of entries, all written in the most precise script in black ink, but I saw no reason to the groupings, either. There were cryptic symbols beside each piece, which must be the ones that Rhiannel said he didn’t understand. Our friend didn’t point to those, but to others written to the right of the precise black script. Those were sequences of four letters, all written in colored ink.

“These are not typical of most ledgers I have seen,” Teth noted. “Colored inks often fade, and so black is usually the most prevalent. But these... I have never seen such bright red, green, or blue inks before.”

“Maybe they’re paints, rather than inks?” Giriel suggested.

Rhiannel nodded. “Possible. Finlor thought the color was important, then.”

I had been studying the letters. “I have an idea. Though King Thranduil should look at these, or Legolas, to be sure, given how long I have been gone from here. In this group of six... there, is that ‘Amro’ next to that entry? That could be Amroziela, one of the flitter-wits. And that is ‘Níri,’ perhaps for Niriellen, and ‘Blit’ for Blithia. Those three maids are the heart of one of the court’s most prominent social factions. Perhaps he’s organized the gems by faction.”

Teth sniffed and shook his head. “Quite the political animal, our Finlor.”

Rhiannel stared at the ledger with dawning awareness. “What would cause him to do that, I wonder? Do the rings interact in some way?”

 “Look at this one,” Teth muttered. “It’s an incomplete group, or so Finlor thought. He’s put one of the odd symbols on this line at the bottom of this group, but there’s nothing else in the entry.”

“So did he plan to put the right trinket with someone in that group?” Rhiannel surmised.

“He was a snake,” Giriel muttered under her breath clenching Míriel’s squeaky ball so hard that it chimed. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to cut his hand off for grabbing mine.”

Kíli had been deeply considering the trinkets as he listened to us talk, but he looked up at Giriel’s words. “Harrying the evil never set well with me, Giriel. It turns good folk into savage folk, and savage folk do things they later suffer for. Better that he’s dead, and we move on cleanly.”

“Do you feel that way about those two Orcs?” Giriel asked, more curiously than defensively. None of us had to ask which Orcs she meant – Krugnash and Berqk from Mount Gundebad, who had sought to punish Kíli for his part in Bolg’s death at Erebor.

“Without doubt. I was happy to let Grimmaz see to them,” Kíli nodded without hesitation. Then he smiled perversely and shrugged. “But it was satisfying to hear them go down her gullet, I admit.”

That earned him grins from all of us that only a guardsman understood, then we went back to our consideration of Finlor’s trinkets.

“I don’t know that sorting them in chronological order is important,” Giriel said at last. “So I say we sort by gem. If we want to sort by faction later, at least we don’t have to go through all of them for each entry.”

“That’s as good as any method,” Teth agreed. “Rhiannel and I will keep looking at the ledger while the rest of you sort.”

By the time King Thranduil, Lord Elrond, and Gandalf came out of the workroom, we had piles of jewelry arranged in a circle on the carpet, like stakes in an expensive game of chance.

“What is this?” Lord Elrond queried in surprise. “Gambling with Finlor’s trinkets?”

Kíli snickered. “Yah, that. The loser has to hold a feast for the kingdom to celebrate how glad we are to be rid of the bloody alchemist. In truth, we’re trying to sort them so we can try to match them to what’s in Finlor’s ledger.”

“I’ve got the emeralds are over here,” Giriel continued then pointed to the pile to her left. “Those are rubies, then sapphires, and amethysts. Those are the stones he used most often. But we’ve found a few aquamarines, peridots, and citrines, too.”

“No adamants,” Thranduil noted. “No white gems.”

Rhiannel nodded. “I think that was by design, my lord. He did not seek to attract your attention by using the gems you favored.”

“If we can match these to the ledger, we will know what we have left to look for, and from whom. The ledger lists names of a sort beside each piece he made. Tauriel could make some of them out,” Teth finished.

“Interesting,” the king’s eyebrows perked up.

“It is a concern, my lord,” I said. “We think that Finlor was interested in the court’s social factions. If you or Legolas could look at the ledger, you would confirm that.”

“Of course. Let me see the ledger,” the king asked, and so he and I joined Rhiannel and Teth. Kíli stood up and murmured to Gandalf and Lord Elrond, and the three of them went into the workroom. Given the purpose in Kíli’s step, as well as his earlier thoughtfulness, he was about to start a most interesting conversation.

 

* * *

 

“I need to ask about your magic,” I said quietly, once Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and I settled on stools in the workroom. “I know it’s not something you want to be common knowledge, but if you want me to destroy that lot of pretty trinkets, I need to know enough that I don’t blunder into killing myself or anyone else.”

The wizard and the high lord looked at each other with inscrutable expressions.

“Oh, give a Dwarf a hand, please,” I exhaled. “If this were something either of you could do yourselves, you would’ve just done it and never asked me. Am I right?”

“You are,” Lord Elrond admitted with a resigned sigh.

“All right, then. Is it because I’m a smith and neither of you are?”

“In part,” Gandalf nodded.

“Is it also because the magic in that lot of jewelry doesn’t affect me the way it does Elves and perhaps wizards?”

“Also in part,” Gandalf nodded.

“Because I’m part Dwarf and not completely Elvish?”

They exchanged looks again. “Your Dwarvish nature rules in this instance, yes. The magic will not affect you.”

I looked at both of them. “It won’t affect me if I touch the trinkets, or it won’t affect me when I work on them? I hope the answer is both.”

Neither of them spoke, so I snorted. “Look, sirs, I don’t care about what kind of magic this is, how it works, where it came from, or even much about what it does. I just need to know how to destroy it. Is the magic in the gems? The gold? Is it enough just to remove the dragon’s blood chamber from each piece, or must I separate gem from gold, or do a combination of those? Or must the gold be melted and the gems heated? Or must the whole lot, gems and gold, be destroyed? I hope not the latter, because we’re right out of dragons and fire mountains.”

Gandalf gave a small smile at that, and slid his gaze to Lord Elrond. I fixed my stare on the high lord and waited.

“Of course, you are right to ask, Kíli,” Lord Elrond conceded. “I am not a ruler who murders the one who delivers us from arcane mischief.”

“That’s a relief,” I muttered, ignoring Gandalf’s glare at my facetiousness. “Just so we’re clear, destroying it won’t tell me anything about how to create it. I won’t be running about trying to do it for myself, so you can stop worrying about that. I just want to live through the destroying.”

“The truth, Kíli, is that we do not know how far you must go to render the pieces inert. I doubt if merely removing the chambers containing the dragon’s blood will be enough. Ring lore, as I call it, infused the gold itself. The gems focused the particular quality imbued in the gold, but were not themselves changed.”

“So just like gold can take on a dragon’s poison, it also takes up this ring lore magic,” I summarized. “So I can take out the gems, and nothing more needs doing to them.”

 “That is what I believe,” Lord Elrond nodded.

“But the gold needs at least to be melted down. Anything more than that?”

“The temperature required is quite hot, but well within your stamina.”

I hummed. “That answers one question, then.”

“What question is that, Kíli?” Gandalf asked.

“I was thinking about King Thranduil, to be honest. If the rings could be cleaned somehow as is, without affecting them, then he might want to give them back to their owners as a mark of generosity. But the need to melt the gold strikes that. I suppose the king could return the loose gems and melted gold to the owners if he wanted. But if he decided to deliver a lesson about the foolish use of magic and keep the lot, I’d agree with him.”

Lord Elrond’s smile was dry. “I appreciate you trying to see all sides of the question, Kíli, but in this case, I agree with your opinion. This is not merely a foolish use of magic, but a dangerous one, and the loss of their trinkets without recompense may teach them not to meddle in it again.”

“I’ve got a few more questions,” I said. “First, since we piled all those things together in a basket, does that mean that they don’t interact with each other? Does that mean I can pop the gems, sort the settings by type of gold, and melt several settings at the same time, or do I need to melt one setting at a time? Obviously, melting lots at the same time means I get through them faster.”

“I want to study that a bit more,” Gandalf answered. “The effects of each piece are slight and subtle, and it may be that melting a few at the same time will cause no ill. I will see what I can discern straightaway.”

“Good enough. Next, is the magic the same in all of the pieces? They all look different, with different stones and metal, but is the magic all the same?”

“It is not,” Lord Elrond replied. “The magic is very closely related in all of them, but the different gems focus different aspects.”

“Once I take the gems out, will all of the settings have the same magic?”

“All of them seem to embody magic to draw an attractive glamour, with some variation,” Lord Elrond said. “That is a question for me to delve into.”

“Do I have to do anything about the dragon’s blood, or will the heat to clean the gold neutralize it? I hope so, because I don’t know whether it’s possible to get all of the blood out of those little chambers. If I have to open each one, wipe it out, and them burn the cloth I used to wipe out the blood, that’ll take a lot longer.”

“We must consult with Thranduil about that,” Lord Elrond said. “Have you any other questions, Master Dwarf?”

“Just a reminder,” I said, digging myself into a hole for speaking so straightly to the highest of high Elves. “I haven’t forgotten that necklace, and I hope you both haven’t, either. I’ll sort out these trinkets soon enough. That necklace, though, isn’t going to be so easy. It’s likely going to disrupt the entire Woodland Realm, because I’ll need a full forge to do it, and there can’t be an Elf within several hundred feet of me when I do it. Otherwise, we’ll need more mithril than can be found in all the Dwarvish kingdoms combined just to shield the working area. And I’ll need help with the bellows, so that’ll fall to you, Gandalf. Someone needs to decide what to do with the gems once I clean them from the dragon’s blood. And no one’s going to like what I want to do about the dragon’s gold once it’s melted, but it’s the only idea I’ve had that makes sense.”

“What is your idea, then?” Gandalf asked.

A single sentence was all I needed to tell them. The high lord and the wizard stared at me in surprise at first, but what replaced their surprise was a surprise to me. Lord Elrond regarded me with much more respect than amusement.

“You are a very wise Dwarf, Kíli,” he said.

Gandalf looked at me proudly. “So you are, my boy. So you are. Your plan offers a fitting resolution. Very good. Very good, indeed.”

“Um... well,” I said intelligently. I’d expected an argument, honestly, and to get support instead of that argument left me gaping. “Trinkets first, then. Then the necklace.”

“Indeed,” Lord Elrond smiled at Gandalf. “We have been given our assignments, Mithrandir. I suggest that we proceed at once.”

The two got up from their stools and returned to the salon. As I followed them, I thought I heard the high lord whisper to Gandalf.

“You were right. He really is a most resourceful Dwarf.”

My face grew hot as I followed them. I would have blushed even if the high lord had been teasing. But he hadn’t been, and the appreciation in his voice was something I’d treasure all my life.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. The waiting game is about to drive Kili crazy, but slowly, slowly clues are emerging about Finlor's evil trinkets. Once again, Tethrandil proves a staunch friend to his fellow Orc Spawn, and Miriel does her best to lighten the air. While Tauriel takes Rhiannel and Giriel on a field trip into the trees of Mirkwood, Kili and Tethrandil visit the Woodland Realm's forges. And at long last...
> 
> Has a certain bookish Elf decided to wake up?

While Kíli conversed privately with Lord Elrond and Gandalf, the rest of us continued to sort the trinkets and try to understand Finlor’s ledgers. King Thranduil agreed with me that the four-letter combinations beside each entry in the second part of the ledger were names. He provided the full names of many of them, and promised that Legolas would peruse the names as well to fill in more.

None of us, however, had the first idea of what the cryptic symbols were in the groups. I voiced what we all hoped – that Lindir, our well-read bookworm, would have an idea.

“Before you left, did the healers tell you how Lindir is faring, Teth?” Rhiannel asked.

He nodded. “I made a point to ask, and the healers are confident that he will wake well restored. Lord Elrond has bolstered their efforts with his own, and he will take some time longer in trance to fully heal – perhaps another day; perhaps two. But they guard him against the dangers of remaining in bed too long by moving his limbs carefully, and he is kept well warm. I was allowed in for a few seconds to see him before I left, and he looks peaceful.”

“Does it help for someone to sit with him, perhaps to read aloud?” Giriel asked. “I would gladly do so if it does.”

“It might help us feel better,” Teth smiled at the maid, “but Lindir’s trance is very deep. Lord Elrond enhanced it to speed his healing, so he will not hear us beside him. We must wait for him to rouse before we can tell him how much we miss him.”

“I think we should make him one of the Orc Spawn. He’s earned it,” Giriel declared, tossing a sapphire ring into the appropriate pile on the carpet. “Though I don’t know if he’ll think the tattoo is a good idea.”

We all chuckled, imagining Lindir’s eyes as we offered to take him down to an inn where a traveling Dwarf would stab small needles into his wrist, rub the wounds with fine charcoal powder, and then pour Dwarvish ale over the result to complete the ritual. The king gave us a quizzical look.

“This Orc Spawn – I have heard you speak of it before, but I do not know of what you speak. What is it?”

Giriel spread her hands to include Rhiannel, Teth, and me. “It’s us, and Kíli, plus a few more of our comrades in Imladris, my lord. We are close friends, and comrades on the guard. Kíli started it during one of our cavalry games...”

The king listened to us take turns explaining the lessons Kíli and I taught, nodding as he understood. In deference to Kíli, we did not describe our trip to Thorin’s Halls and back to Imladris; even our frank Giriel said only that in serving long duty together, often fighting Orcs, we shared a close friendship that merited our Warg rider tattoo. If Kíli chose to tell the king about his determination to keep a promise to his mother, his resulting mistreatment at the hands of Gundebad Orcs, and his partnership with Grimmaz, it was his place to do so, not ours.

“This is the last of our confiscated trinkets,” Giriel said, holding up a gold ring with a ruby in it. “There, into the ruby pile with you! What now?”

Rhiannel looked up from the ledger. “Shall we see if we can find the set of trinkets for one of the groups? We know that Amroziela’s trinket was one of those we collected, so let us try to find the others for her group.”

That met with everyone’s approval, so Teth and Thranduil found our chosen group in the ledger. As Teth read the description of the trinkets, Rhiannel, Giriel, and I sorted through the piles to find it. Out of the first group of six, we found five. We had just gathered them in the center of the piles when Kíli, Lord Elrond, and Gandalf returned from the workroom.

“What’s this, then?” Kíli asked. “Did you take Lord Elrond’s question to heart, and decide to gamble with the trinkets?”

“The only one winning anything in this game is our dead alchemist,” Giriel snorted. “We’re trying to sort out why he organized his trinkets in this ledger the way he did, and if that’s important to understand before we do anything else.”

“We need Lindir,” Teth said from his reading couch. “Of all of us, he would understand these symbols.”

“It would be wisest to know all we can before we experiment with what needs to be done to dissipate the magic,” Lord Elrond agreed. His voice seemed to come from some distance away, and the once bright sunlight darkened. As the high lord frowned at me, I realized that my head ached terribly. “Tauriel? What is it?”

I blinked, only to find myself looking up into Kíli’s concerned eyes. “What is wrong? Why do you look at me like that?”

“You fainted, _amrâlimê_ ,” Kíli said, swallowing. He knelt on the floor with my head on his knees; Lord Elrond knelt beside me, my wrist in his hands. “Are you in pain? What happened?”

“My head,” I winced. “It hurts very badly.”

Kíli looked anxiously at Lord Elrond, and his hands tightened on my shoulders. Behind him, Giriel stood with Míriel in her arms, whispering reassurances to our frightened daughter. Behind her, Rhiannel and the king regarded Teth with concern as he grimaced in pain.

“Teth feels something, too. What is it?” Kíli asked the high lord. “These _dagul_ trinkets?”

“That is my thought,” Lord Elrond agreed. “So many of them in this small space... I expect that all of us will feel the same way, given enough time. Come, we can do no more here today. Let us take ourselves to cleaner air.”

“Is it safe to leave all of the trinkets here in one place?” Kíli persisted.

“I think it will be safe enough,” Lord Elrond reassured him. “Once we put distance between us and the trinkets, the effect will dissipate. We will post guards on the alchemist’s rooms to keep everyone out, and consider our next steps elsewhere.”

Kíli picked me up in his arms to carry me out of the alchemist’s salon and into the hall. Giriel and Rhiannel took up Míriel and her toys, and followed us with the rest of our comrades. I vaguely heard King Thranduil send one of the Woodland guardsmen for reinforcements to ensure that no one ventured close to Finlor’s apartment. Kíli, however, didn’t wait for the guards to arrive. He bore me swiftly through the cavern, heading straight for my quarters in the king’s apartments. Halfway there, my head cleared, and I urged him to put me down. He did so, if reluctantly, and we walked slowly the rest of the way back. When the doorman let us in, my husband led me to a deeply cushioned settee and urged me to sit, then found the nearest wine carafe to pour me a glass. As soon as it was in my hand, he skipped off to ask the doorman to send for some food.

“I’m not hungry, Kíli,” I protested. “Be easy, _a’maelamin_. I feel fine now.”

“Then you’ll feel even better after something to eat,” he said over his shoulder.

I sighed in resignation. “That is a Dwarf’s answer to most problems. Eat something!”

As Kíli came to join me, his lips curved up into an impish smile. “That’s because most problems go away when everyone sits down together and has a few mugs of ale with chips, or a plate of buns, or a bowl of stew. And if they don’t, it’s always better to brawl on a full stomach, for stamina.”

The rest of our comrades entered the king’s salon. Rhiannel and the king hovered on either side of Teth, but he was able to find a comfortable chair under his own power. Kíli’s idea to send for food appealed to everyone, so King Thranduil sent for luncheon for all of us. Before long, platters of food and drink arrived, and so did Legolas. As we ate, we told him all that we had learned so far.

“I agree with you,” Legolas said. “We need Lindir’s expertise. He is very knowledgeable about all sorts of esoteric subjects, and perhaps the strange symbols are one such.”

“In the meantime, Legolas,” his father said, “would you please look at the ledger of the trinkets to see if you can puzzle out more of the names? Once we have the names, it may be that Finlor’s reason for grouping the trinkets as he did will become clear.”

“I hope you can also shed some light on the storeroom ledger,” Lord Elrond said. “Our immediate problem may be the trinkets, but that is a well-defined problem. We are less sure of the meaning of Finlor’s well-stocked storeroom. Kíli has wondered whether he had the help of smugglers to fill his shelves. And Tauriel uncovered a potential link with Harad.”

“Harad?” The prince’s face spasmed with distaste. “The Haradrim are far from savory merchants, even in the best of situations. What foul thing did you uncover to suggest a link with them?”

We explained about the carpet made by the smallest of children’s hands, only to see Legolas’s face twist in disgust anew.

“There seems to be no limit to Finlor’s callousness,” he commented, with a brooding looking into his wine glass.

“Indeed,” Gandalf growled. His expression was no less disgusted. “He has left us a full raft of pretty problems to solve, but at least he can offer us no more. We are better off without him.”

The murmur that went around the room was heartfelt agreement.

“If we must leave the trinkets until Lindir can help us decipher Finlor’s ledger,” King Thranduil said, “then I will see what we can learn about where Finlor got his trappings and his supplies. That will allow all of you a well-earned respite, as well.”

The king, prince, wizard, and high lord discussed plans, but I couldn’t concentrate on their words. My head no longer ached, but as soon as the food hit my stomach, exhaustion struck, and I had the most overwhelming urge to lie down. Kíli realized it, and excused us to help me to my old room. He brought Míriel and her toys with us, and once I lay down on the bed, Kíli slipped off my boots and tunic for me, and wrapped me warmly in blankets.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t trance a bit, _amrâlimê_ ,” he murmured, stroking my cheek. Beside him, Míriel patted my thigh comfortingly. “That lot of magical _dahaut_ is insidious. I can’t wait to be rid of it.”

“Neither can I,” I sighed. “I am ashamed to be so confounded by mere things. I do not like it at all.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed about, Tauriel. It’s Finlor who should be ashamed for inflicting such viciousness. Everything we learn about him makes me loathe him all the more. He wasn’t just a thief and a murderer, though those are bad enough. This business with his trinkets, and how he used the necklace...”

“ _A’maelamin_?”

Kíli’s eyes turned dark and hard. “He liked to hurt folk. He reveled in it.” His gaze lightened as he stroked my hair. “Don’t worry about that now. Rest, _amrâlimê_. Miri and I will watch over you, and soon I’ll dismantle everything he made so he can’t force anyone to do anything anymore. I promise you.”

“What about the necklace?” I murmured, even though my eyes were heavy.

“I’ve got a plan for that, too. Lord Elrond and Gandalf think it’s a good plan, so that won’t plague us for much longer, either. Let it go for now, Tauriel. Rest.”

I nodded, groped for Kíli’s hand, and managed to kiss it before my eyes closed.

  

* * *

 

_Before long, Tethrandil and Thranduil were the only two left in the Orc Spawn’s sitting room. Though Tauriel had been the Elf most affected by Finlor’s trinkets, everyone else had felt their draining effect, and the tedium of sorting through so many of them had worn out everyone. Tethrandil might have followed his comrades’ examples, but his shoulder and arm ached so badly that neither the resting pad nor reading couch in his room would prove any more comfortable than where he sat now. Besides, the king had suggested a game of chess, to which Tethrandil quickly agreed. The challenge of the game would distract him from the ache of his wounds._

_The pair played in silence. Thranduil was a formidable opponent, more skilled than Tethrandil, but Tethrandil held his own for some time before finally losing his queen to Thranduil’s superior forces. He tipped his king over, signaling his concession, with a rueful smile._

_“You played a good game,” Thranduil acknowledged._

_“I thank you, my lord. You are very skilled. You must play often.”_

_“Not as often as I would like. Your Lord Elrond is an excellent player. I have enjoyed our matches.”_

_“Few play to his equal.”_

_“I am not among those few,” the king admitted, but with a smile, without rancor. “He is a subtle strategist, with much to teach.”_

_Tethrandil laughed. “I worked closely with him for many centuries, yet he still surprises me on occasion with his approach to a situation. I appreciate his flexibility.”_

_Thranduil considered. “Does that not make him appear inconstant?”_

_Tethrandil shook his head. “On the contrary, my lord. Time passes. Situations are rarely the same twice in succession. Lord Elrond is nimble of mind, and is not afraid to ask his counselors to recognize change, and then consider how Imladris should change in response. The arrival of Kíli and Tauriel is one such situation.”_

_“What changed with their arrival in Imladris?”_

_“Their experience as warriors was different than ours, and at first our master of the guard discounted it. Lord Elrond had to... quietly insist that we consider their skills, then add them to the Imladris guard. So our Master Oteriel was patient as Kíli and Tauriel learned our ways without complaint, and as they taught their ways to us. In Imladris, to fight in treetops is unconventional, but not here. In Imladris, hand to hand combat against a larger opponent is not considered, but it makes perfect sense to adopt a Dwarf’s tactics when fighting an eight-foot tall Gundebad Orc. Lord Elrond understood that. Now Master Oteriel agrees without reservation that adapting made us stronger.”_

_Thranduil considered that, then gave Tethrandil a sharp glance. “Did it not cause disruption, to have strangers upset what had worked so well for so long?”_

_Tethrandil laughed easily. “I, for one, found it refreshing. Sameness often grows stale, and lazy. Kíli is very spontaneous, and reacts quickly to change, which enhanced our close-in combat techniques. Tauriel’s expertise brought many maids to the Imladris guard, which also boosted our close-in techniques. And her skill in the trees is unrivaled. We are less rigid now, yet at the same time, more secure.”_

_Thranduil’s frown was one of consideration and thought, rather than disapproval. “I will consider what you have said more deeply.”_

_“You honor me, my lord.”_

_“And you spared me more wounds than I took tonight, and likely my life. I thank you for that.”_

_Tethrandil offered the best bow he could from his chair, though it pulled his shoulder. “You are most welcome, my lord.”_

_“I thank you for the game. Perhaps we will have the chance of another before long.”_

_“I look forward to that, my lord.”_

_“Until later, then. I bid you good night.”_

_“And you, my lord.”_

_Thranduil rose, offered an unforced smile, and made his way out of the Orc Spawn’s suite. When the door shut behind him, Tethrandil smiled. The king was opening, one little bit at a time._

 

* * *

 

When Tauriel’s eyes closed, I put her hand down gently, and let my anger at a dead alchemist wash over me in a wave. Thank the Valar he was dead, or I would have been tempted to vent my rage at him in some way that Giriel would have heartily endorsed. But the touch of my daughter’s hand on mine and her chirp of inquiry helped me push my temper aside, and focus on the worthier parts of life. I looked down to Míriel, who looked anxious.

“Mami?” she asked in a wavering voice.

“Mami is all right, Miri. She’s resting, so we’ll creep quietly away to play on the carpet. Would you like the squeaky ball, or Troli’s doll?”

“Ram,” she decided, so I caught her up, and rolled over the carpet with her in my arms, drawing her to giggle. We had a good tussle and snuggle until Míriel’s apprehension had gone, and I put the consideration of evil deeds aside as we marched small, carved, wooden animals back and forth across the rug. It was good to forget everything but being a father who delighted in his bairn.

Between all the banging on walls this morn and marching of toys this afternoon, Míriel quieted and soon wanted to contemplate her toes. I tucked her into her cradle, and then kicked off my boots and stretched out beside Tauriel, twining my fingers with hers as she rested. I shut my eyes for a while, glad to drift a bit, to hover halfway between sleeping and waking. When Tauriel stirred beside me, I blinked, and found her emerald eyes regarding me peacefully.

“I did trance a little,” she said softly.

“Not for long. Míriel and I rolled about on the carpet, and played animals until she got tired. She’s in her cradle with Troli’s doll and her blanket, and she’s happy.”

“And what about you? Are you happy?” she smiled.

“Lying next to you?” I tugged a lock of her beautiful red hair that I so loved. “Of course I am. If you feel better, then I’m even happier.”

“I do.”

“Good.” I eased under Tauriel’s blankets to snuggle her close to me, and she welcomed me with a sigh. I rested my cheek against her hair, shut my eyes, and savored how good it was to lie with her quietly, reassuring myself that she was well and untroubled by magical trinkets. On many occasions, such closeness would have turned into a blissful, playful romp in the blankets, but not today. Finlor’s menace had hurt Tauriel, even if no physical weapon had touched her, and I felt protective and grateful for her recovery, rather than amorous. Tauriel did, too, because she was content to stay cradled in my arms, soaking up my body heat as she had during our first stay in the _Glawar-galad_. We rested that way, comforting each other, for a short time.

Tauriel finally stirred to stretch, and rubbed my forearm slowly. “I confess that I am hungry.”

I snickered. “Of course you are. You married a Dwarf, and he’s always hungry. It’s bound to wear off.”

“A bowl of soup would be perfect. Unless it’s getting close to supper.”

I snickered again. “A bowl of soup would be perfect. _Especially_ if it’s getting close to supper.”

Tauriel rewarded my silliness with a chuckle as she sat on the edge of the bed and stretched her arms wide. “I respect Dís more and more. How she managed to keep two sons full for more than a few seconds at a time was a monumental task, but she did so, and had time left to be the good counselor of your folk.”

I sat up beside Tauriel and stole a kiss from her lips. “Maybe Míriel will be _Maamr’s_ revenge. Her appetite is quite healthy. Though I’m told that maids eat less than lads.”

Humming, Tauriel reached for her tunic and slipped it back on. “Perhaps. When we have a son, we will know better.”

I blinked. “Are you... did you mean... that we...”

Startled, Tauriel gave me her full regard, all rising eyebrows and wide, emerald eyes. “Did I...? Oh! That! No, we have not made another babe yet. But don’t worry, Kíli. I’m sure we will soon enough. We certainly enjoy giving ourselves the chance often enough, yes?”

“Oh, yes,” I agreed, smiling. “Enjoy is hardly the word for it. It’s just... I hadn’t thought to make another so soon. Míriel’s still very small, isn’t she?”

“She is,” Tauriel looked thoughtful. “She is still suckling, though not as much. I remember Ysola telling me that it was less likely to make another babe while the first one still suckled. But that was for Women, not Elves, and given how many children some Women have, perhaps it is only wishful thinking.”

I thought about that as I pulled on my boots. “I’d think it’d be sensible for any folk to put off bearing a second time until the first bairn is off the breast. It would be hard to keep two bairns full at the same time.”

“Pity the mother with twins, then,” Tauriel agreed. “I am well ready for something to eat, Kíli. If there is nothing left from luncheon, and it is not very near supper, we will see what we can beg from the kitchens.”

I bent over Míriel’s cradle. “She’s still cross-eyed. Should I get her up, anyway?”

“Let us see who is without, and whether plans were made while we rested.”

I stuck my head outside our door, and there was Teth resting on the reading couch. He contemplated a chessboard on the table beside the reading couch, where a game had just ended. He looked up with a smile.

“Kíli!” he greeted. “How is Tauriel? Recovered, I hope?”

I came into the salon with Tauriel behind me. “She’s much better, thank you. She actually fell into trance for a few moments. Those trinkets are much more troublesome than any of us realized.”

Teth nodded sympathetically. “More troublesome than Lord Elrond and Gandalf expected, certainly. They went back to Finlor’s apartment to consider them after you and Tauriel retired. Tauriel, I am relieved to hear that you have recovered.”

Tauriel sat in the chair on the other side of the chessboard. Her cheeks had reddened, and she stared at her hands. “I am so embarrassed, Teth. First the necklace, and now these trinkets ... these things play havoc with me. I feel so... undermined, and by a mere handful of jewelry.”

Teth’s expression was sympathetic. “It is humbling, to be sure. I do not know if I felt what you felt from the trinkets, but what I felt was dizzying.”

“Ah, you felt them, too,” Tauriel said. “My head hurt so badly that I wasn’t sure. I didn’t expect that – I thought they affected me because I am the youngest, and Nandor. You are our oldest Orc Spawn, and Noldor.”

“I am also injured,” Teth said. “Perhaps these things look for any weakness, and exert their influence accordingly. Whatever the case, do not despair, or think less of yourself, because of them, Tauriel. They are just as implacable as arrows into the body, which maim regardless of strength of will or good intent.”

As Tauriel considered our friend’s words, her face brightened a bit. “That is a good analogy, Teth – thank you. I have no more defense against them than any of us had against Finlor’s knives. I can take heart from that.”

I sent Teth a smile, thanking him for his reassurance. Our white-haired Orc Spawn was a wise Elf, and I appreciated him offering us the benefit of his consideration.

“So Lord Elrond and Gandalf are off contemplating the trinkets,” I said. “Where is everyone else, and what time is supper?”

“King Thranduil is holding his afternoon court. Legolas is pursuing hints of smuggling. Giriel and Rhiannel...” Teth gave us a wink. “They are in private counsel until supper.”

“I’ll bet they are,” I grinned. “Míriel needs another playmate, and I can’t think of a fitter couple to give her a rambunctious one.”

“Does a Dwarf call me rambunctious?” was Rhiannel’s rhetorical question as he and Giriel came into the king’s salon. “That sounds suspiciously like a corsair accusing a thief of stealing.”

The three of us laughed, which discommoded our outspoken Giriel not at all. “We are fit members of the Orc Spawn,” was her blithe reply. “We moved our things back into our suite, if you must know. The Woodland Elves have cleaned everything and replaced the draperies after the fire, and all is back to normal. There is only a slight smell of smoke, not unpleasant. You can move back, too, if you choose, and I hope you do. It’s much easier to imagine a limestone cavern as merely a larger tent to house the Orc Spawn when all of us are there. The sunlight in Finlor’s apartment today reminded me of how much I miss being outside.”

“Me, too,” I agreed. To see the sun again, even if I didn’t feel the breezes...”

“I miss it, too,” Tauriel said. “That was one reason why I was out among the trees most nights when I lived here. I preferred to feel the air.”

She preferred to vent her grief at the deaths of her parents on the Orcs that caused those deaths, I thought, but kept silent. The cavern had stifled my wife for too long, and I was glad she no longer lived here.

Tauriel looked at me, perhaps feeling my silent thoughts, but then her gaze shifted to take in the rest of our comrades. “Would you like to go among the trees tonight, after supper? We will not go far, in deference to Teth’s shoulder, but it would be good to feel the air again, and smell the leaves, and take the stars directly.”

That met with instant agreement, so we made plans to do so come dusk. In the meantime, we chatted about inconsequential things, and I brought Míriel out to play. This was a comfortable routine for her, to crawl between her auntie and uncles and parents to play or hug or burble.

Before long, Lord Elrond, Gandalf, Legolas, and King Thranduil joined us for supper in the king’s suite. Because of the turmoil Finlor had caused, the king had announced that there would be no formal court supper today, and likely none tomorrow. We didn’t yet understand about the Finlor’s groups, so the king was rightly wary about assembling large numbers of folk who still retained their trinkets. His announcement had included a terse acknowledgement of Finlor’s attack and the king’s awareness of Finlor’s jewelry. He would look more kindly upon Elves who submitted their pieces voluntarily, and less kindly upon those who waited for the guard’s sweep to confiscate them. Elves who could not produce their pieces would be closely questioned. That would give the court something to dither about while we waited for Lindir to recover. That couldn’t happen too soon, to my mind. The sooner we could move quickly to collect the last pieces, the sooner I could unmake them.

No one had much new information to report at supper – or rather, no one was willing to talk about it if they did. I suspected that Lord Elrond and Gandalf had had many words about those trinkets, and likely they’d tried a few things on the ones we’d collected. But they held silence, and so we had little to do at supper but enjoy the good food and exchange pleasantries.

After that, Tauriel and Legolas took us out onto the top of the limestone cavern’s dome to survey the surrounding forest in the dusk. It was not yet full dark. The moon was little more than a crescent, but it and the stars were still visible through the slight haze that was the hallmark of so many deep summer nights. Still, the rattle of drying leaves in the slight breeze revealed that summer was all but gone, and autumn was coming. As much as I savored the feel of the breeze in my hair, the passage of time depressed me, because it brought the reality of a winter spent away from home closer. If we ever sorted out Finlor’s cursed jewelry ledger enough to know how to proceed, I vowed to spend every waking moment dismantling his trinkets – and the cursed necklace after them – until they were nothing but metal and gems. King Thranduil was welcome to do with those remnants whatever he wanted.

After awhile, Teth was ready to return inside, for his shoulder was still tender. Rhiannel and Giriel, however, wanted to venture farther afield than the top of the cavern, and as Tauriel was willing to lead them, I urged her to do so.

“My legs are too short for tree jumping, _amrâlimê_ ,” I said. “Teth and I can keep Míriel company.”

“We will not remain out long,” Tauriel assured me. “No Orc or spider hunting for us tonight.”

“We’ll have tea waiting for you, or a glass of wine, if you prefer,” I said, kissing Tauriel.

Her fingers stroked my hair, and insinuated themselves in my mane to give it a gentle tug. “Until then, _a’maelamin_.”

She moved away with Giriel and Rhiannel in tow, disappearing into the lowering night. Legolas guided Teth and me back into the cavern. It was still early, and I was restless, so when Legolas turned to lead Teth and me back to our suite, I had another idea.

“Teth, would you mind a short detour?”

My friend gave me his regard. “What sort of a detour, Kíli?”

I looked to Legolas. “Would you take me down to your forges, Legolas? I’d like to see them, so I can think about the best way to unmake all of Finlor’s trinkets.”

“Of course. It is too late to meet our smiths, but you can certainly see what tools are available to you.”

“That’s perfect. I thank you.”

“They are this way,” Legolas indicated the direction, and Teth and I followed the Elvish prince down to the same level as the stores, but into a new wing I hadn’t seen before. The forges were not so large as those in Imladris, but they were well laid out, with a central furnace in the round, with different workbenches well outfitted for utility ironwork, weapons work, jewelry making, and other specialties. There was also a furnace for glasswork, and a kiln for clay. All in all, all the tools I needed were readily available. As we wound our way up back to our suite, I felt a little easier, and I complimented Legolas on the completeness of the Woodland Realm’s forges.

As expected, Teth retired as soon as we reached our suite. Legolas did, too. The prince looked tired; his father relied on him for many things, and given how few folk we could call upon to look into Finlor’s business, Legolas was likely doing double duty. I knocked on the door to the king’s private study, and intruded upon Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and King Thranduil only long enough to collect Míriel. Then my daughter and I went back the salon to amuse ourselves until Tauriel, Giriel, and Rhiannel returned. I set up all of Míriel’s wooden animals and rolled her squeaky ball at them to knock them over, which she thought was a good game.

I enjoyed the time with her as much as I always did, but it was getting hard to quell my urge to do something, anything, about Finlor’s trinkets other than wait. We had to wait for Lindir to awaken. To understand the ledgers. To learn how to unmake the trinkets. To do one thing after another, and then another, and then another after that. And I still had to negotiate a treaty. It was so maddening that I felt smothered. What I wouldn’t give for another Dwarf and a practice court for us to spar on! A few wrestling matches might not help me with the trinkets, but they’d help me dissipate my pent-up energy.

Some hours later, Tauriel, Rhiannel, and Giriel returned refreshed and invigorated from their time in the trees. They’d seen no Orcs, Wargs, or spiders. When the haze had lifted, though, they had enjoyed the splendid sight of the Snow Path that stretched above from horizon to horizon, and the parade of star animals that wandered the sky every night. We shared a glass of wine as they described the sights, and then Rhiannel and Giriel helped Tauriel and me collect our things from Tauriel’s room and carry them back to our guest suite. Giriel was right; only the faintest odor of smoke clung to the suite, for the limestone had been scrubbed, the burned carpet and draperies replaced, and the linens changed for fresh ones. Rhiannel and Giriel soon excused themselves, and Tauriel and I remained with Míriel.

“You are very restless, Kíli,” Tauriel observed, putting her hand on my arm.

“Too _barathar_ right,” I exhaled. “All this fucking waiting is maddening. I hope Lindir wakes up soon and can sort out that _kurvanog_ ledger about the trinkets. I’ll feel a lot better when I can start smithing that lot of _shemator dahaut_ into dross.”

“You _are_ in a state,” my wife said. “You swore in three languages. Come, a warm bath might help you relax.”

“I’d swear in Quenya, too, if it had any decent curse words,” I told her, scooping Miri up and carrying her into our bedchamber. “But it doesn’t. Only subtleties, not suitable for Dwarvish venting.”

Tauriel went into the bathing chamber to turn on the taps, then returned to take off her clothes. I stripped down and hopped into the tub while Tauriel suckled Míriel for her evening snack. They both joined me in the tub for our usual splashing, and when Míriel tired of that, I climbed out to put her in her cradle. I was too distracted to climb back into the tub, so tried to get comfortable in bed while Tauriel had her wash. In a few moments, when Tauriel joined me in bed, I was still tossing and turning.

“Still?” she questioned softly, unpinning her hair and letting it spill loosely over her shoulders and down her body. Her braids were still in place, but she combed the rest in long strokes. “Can nothing ease you?”

I watched her comb her hair, savoring how the long, red strands caressed her skin like the finest silk. The silver rings in her ears glimmered in the lamplight almost as brightly as her emerald eyes did, and her skin had the slightest ethereal sheen.

“I can think of something that might,” I whispered, and slid over for her to sit beside me. Her fingers traced the lightest of caresses down my cheek, my shoulder, my chest, and she smiled when my skin tensed into gooseflesh and my breath caught.

“So can I,” she whispered back.

Between the two of us, we found quite a few ways to distract ourselves. It was a relief to indulge them all, to think about nothing other than pleasing ourselves in more ways than we could easily count. When we were done, I fell asleep with more ease than I expected.

Unfortunately, I awoke just a few hours later, just as unsettled as I had been before Tauriel and I had tended to each other.

That fucking Finlor had been dead a full two days, yet he was still causing trouble.

 

* * *

 

The next day brought more agitation than my own. King Thranduil and Legolas were absent, dealing with a kingdom in disarray. The Orc Spawn were restless, worried about our friend still in the healing chambers, and unable to distract themselves. Gandalf and Lord Elrond were in no better straits. They’d stayed closeted in Finlor’s apartment, doing who knew what. I imagined they tried some sort of experimentation with Finlor’s trinkets, but they didn’t ask for me to attend whatever it was they did. When they appeared at irregular intervals, they were close-mouthed and in no better humor than I was. Míriel was the only one who was happy, but even her brow wrinkled when she looked at the spread of tight faces around her. It was a struggle to smile at her, much play contentedly with her, but we made a semblance of good spirits on her behalf.

Desperate for distraction, the Orc Spawn made a pilgrimage to the _Pand uin Gilith_ after breakfast. Few Elves frequented it at this early hour, which was just what we wanted. The Courtyard of Starlight showed no sign of Finlor’s attacks, and we all craved a glimpse of sunlight. Alas, it was raining, and the light coming in from the ceiling portals was muted. But it was brighter than the ever-present amber lamplight of the cavern, and the flowers and shrubs were a refreshing reminder of the outside world. We all seemed to breathe a little easier there.

We returned to our suite to wait for luncheon. Teth and Rhiannel tried to play chess, while Giriel and Tauriel tried to see which of them could stand on their hands the longest (it was a draw). Míriel and I wore a path in the carpet tramping back and forth. My daughter would soon walk on her own, and once she got her legs well under her, she’d lead us on a merry chase. I took a handful of shelled nuts and entertained Míriel by tossing them up one at a time and catching them in my mouth. She hauled herself up by the front of my tunic, trying to grab one of them, and I wound my arms around her to roll over the rug the way she found so entertaining. She chortled as I rolled –

Legolas burst into the room. “I’ve just gotten word from the healers. Lindir is awake –”

All of us were up, out the door, and running for the healing halls before poor Legolas finished his sentence. I had Míriel under my arm like a sack of tubers, and she laughed like this was the best fun she’d had all day. The Elves’ longer legs let them get ahead of me, but I wasn’t far behind when we burst in on the healers. Legolas was right on my heels.

“We’ve heard that Lindir is awake!” Giriel cried to the first healer we came upon. “Is he? We want to see him!”

Lord Elrond swept in right after us, laughing when he saw that we’d arrived ahead of him. King Thranduil, still in his court robes and crown, rushed in a second later.

“Word travels fast, as usual,” King Thranduil said with a smirk and a shake of his head. “Is Lindir ready to receive such a throng?”

The poor healer didn’t try to deny the lot of us, but merely waved a surprised hand at Lindir’s door. Lord Elrond went first, and opened the door.

“Lindir? Wonderful! You are awake! You have quite a crowd eager to welcome you back.”

The high lord held the door open, and all of us hurried forward, eager to see the comrade we’d missed.


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Lindir is in the building! Even better, he's awake, if a bit bewildered at the Orc Spawn's jubilant welcome. Legolas's observations about that welcome bode well for the Woodland Realm. Finlor's evil continues to strike at our intrepid band, which awards Kili a dubious trifecta. Finally, at long last, Lindir has a look at the mysterious jewelry ledger. Will his love of books help him sort out what has mystified his friends so badly?
> 
> Enjoy the seesawing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> mellonemma = our friend (Quenya)  
> osellëa ar’ otornoa nin = my sisters and brothers (Quenya)  
> barathar = bloody (Khazuduhl)  
> skator-u = to hell (i.e., damned; Khaduzuhl)  
> mir voz = good egg (Orcish)
> 
> -lya – singular your ending (Quenya); so "your friend" would be "mellonalya"  
> -lda – plural your ending (Quenya); so "your friend" would be "mellonalda"

Lindir lay in bed, blinking sleepily. Ah, he was still rousing from his healing trance, then, which took time. The thick blankets that had kept him warm still covered him from the waist down, but those covering his chest had been eased back so that the healers could check his wounds. What I could see of him was clad mostly in white linen bandages wound around his ribs, one shoulder, and both arms. I was relieved that none of them were stained with blood. His hair, usually so impeccably dressed, was in a loose, mussed, three-strand braid that traced over his shoulder and down his chest. His face seemed thinner, and his eye sockets were hollow. But he was aware, and propped up on enough pillows to see the horde of us pouring into the room. His eyes widened when he spotted Lord Elrond, and then King Thranduil in his full court splendor, and then Kíli and the rest of us streaming in behind them.

“Oh – my lords, I’m sorry, I’m not dressed –”

“Do not concern yourself, Lindir,” Lord Elrond reassured him. “We are here to see you, not your clothes. You are a welcome sight!”

“A welcome sight, indeed,” King Thranduil agreed, smiling. “We are all relieved to find you aware again.”

“Valar, Lindir, you look as pale as a pot of fresh cheese, but you are still the finest sight I have seen in a week!” Giriel exclaimed, as the Orc Spawn and Legolas came to stand around Lindir’s bed with the lords. “How are you feeling?”

“I am weak, but in very little pain,” Lindir whispered. His voice was rusty. He blinked in surprise, and tried to clear his throat. “My. There is something wrong with my voice...”

Giriel grinned as Rhiannel poured our friend a cup of water and offered it to him. “You’ve been in healing trance for three full days, that’s all that’s wrong. Valar, all of us have missed you very much!”

He blinked again and looked around at us as he sipped his water, but the emphatic murmurs of agreement that followed Giriel’s words convinced him of our sincerity. He looked at Lord Elrond. “Three – three days, my lord?”

“So you have,” Lord Elrond nodded, smiling. “I am most pleased to see you have recovered so well from so many wounds. You are made of stern stuff, _mellon nin_.”

Lindir’s eyes grew large. “Wounds?”

Kíli laughed, plunking Míriel on the bed by Lindir’s feet. Our babe crawled up to sit in Lindir’s lap and patted his hand. “Yes, wounds! That _kurvanog_ Finlor knifed you six times, you daft Elf! Do you remember?”

“Oh, Valar,” Lindir said faintly, stroking Míriel’s hair in distraction. “I do remember. He struck me from behind. I didn’t think – I simply struck where I thought the blow had come from, and Teth and I managed to put our hands on him. Teth had him about the waist, I think, so I grabbed his arm and tried to strip his rings from him. That’s when he stabbed me – six times, you said?”

Kíli nodded vigorously. “Six _skator-u_ times, the rat bastard.”

Lindir gulped. “I don’t know what happened afterwards. Did I get his ring of invisibility, at least?”

“At least?” Kíli threw his arms wide. “Not only did you get it, you kept him from getting it back, no matter how hard he hammered you. That turned the tide. You were magnificent!”

“Mag – magnificent?” Lindir faltered, drawing everyone’s laughter.

“Quite magnificent,” I assured him.

“Brave and persistent, too,” Rhiannel added.

King Thranduil’s smile was ironic, but kindly meant. “Heroic.”

“A worthy warrior,” was Legolas’s contribution.

“A true comrade at arms,” Teth continued.

“An Orc Spawn in all but name,” Giriel concluded. “Which we want to remedy. If you’d honor us, Lindir, we want you to join us. I’ll find someone to do your tattoo, if you’d like.”

“Tattoo?” Lindir blanched, then he wrung his hands over his face as if that would wipe away his confusion. “Oh, Valar. I had heard that healing trance was like mortal sleep, but I did not know it came with such strange dreams...”

“I think we have overwhelmed _mellonemma_ ,” Lord Elrond suggested gently amidst our laughter. “Let us give him time to fully waken –”

“Oh, no, my lord,” Lindir interrupted, then looked aghast when he realized he’d interrupted the high lord. “Er, my apologies, my lord, but I seem to be in the middle of a very strange tale, and I would very much like to hear the rest of it.”

“ _Mir voz_!” Giriel clapped her hands. “That’s just what we want to hear you say, because we need you to help us finish the tale, and you can’t until you know what’s happened since you were wounded. So let Lord Elrond check your wounds, and then you will return to us, and our quiet Tethrandil stay with you for a while to explain all to you. Then, we’ll welcome you to the hunt in earnest.”

“So speaks the queen,” Lord Elrond deadpanned.

“ _Barathar_ right,” Kíli muttered under his breath, sharing a commiserating look with Rhiannel, which got a rude noise from Giriel, and that in turn drew a lot of snickers and snorts from the rest of us. “But in this case, the maid’s right. Lindir, as soon as Lord Elrond says we can have you back, we’ll have a feast, and then we’ll put you to work.”

I suspect that everything was moving too fast for Lindir to fully grasp, but to his credit, he took a deep breath, patted Míriel on the head, and mustered a gratified smile. “I look forward to that, _osellëa ar’ otornoa nin_.”

Kíli gave Lindir an approving grin. “Yah, _comys thoyn_ , Lindir! All right, you lot, let the Elf find his trousers in peace. We’ll see you soon, Lindir.”

I collected Míriel from Lindir’s lap as we echoed Kíli’s exuberance, then all of us but the two lords filed out of Lindir’s room. Our mood was jubilant as we retraced our steps back to our guest suite, so much so that Kíli and Giriel started a loud song in Orcish, which meant it was obscene. Rhiannel and Teth were too busy laughing at our comrades to bellow the vile tongue with them. Legolas dropped back to walk beside me.

“I envy you,” he murmured in Sindarin. At my mystified look, he went on. “Your fellows from Imladris are the truest companions I have known. You did not have such close companions here, and I am ashamed that I could have changed that, and did not. I am glad you have them, and your One. Imladris shines brighter because of you.”

I put my hand on Legolas’s arm. “I appreciate the good wishes of a good friend, which you have always been to me. But do not envy me too much, Legolas. With Finlor gone, and his poisons soon to be purged, the Woodland Realm will shine with a brighter light, too.”

Legolas offered me a knowing smile. “You are right. Lord Elrond’s counsel has changed _Ada_ for the better, and so has Mithrandir’s. But the camaraderie between the Orc Spawn has, also. He has learned much from the trust you and your friends share. I have, as well.”

“I suspect you both have learned more Black Speech curses than perhaps is wise.”

Legolas laughed. “It has been most instructive. I shall ask Kíli to teach me some Dwarvish insults. That will help us when we speak to the Dwarves from Erebor, so that we know when we are complimented, and when we are not.”

“I’ll see that he does,” I promised.

“Once Lindir is ready for his feast, please send for me. Until then, I still have duties awaiting me.”

“Any progress on the smuggling?” I asked, as we neared our suite.

“More than I would like. While I am glad to make progress, I am disturbed at the extent of it. I want to speak to Teth. I think his knowledge of trade agreements will confirm several things. I will speak to him at the feast.”

“As soon as Lindir’s ready, I will send for you. You have been one of us in this, too, and you belong at our celebration.”

“Thank you.” Legolas clasped my hand in his, tapped Míriel’s nose playfully, drawing her to laugh, and then went his way. I came into the suite behind my friends in time to see Kíli dancing across the carpet.

“He looks good!” Kíli was proclaiming, grinning widely. “Lindir looks good! Though _skator_ , Giriel, you scared him right off by mentioning the tattoo.”

Giriel waved a hand in unconcern. “He’ll do it. If he can bear that Finlor to stab him six times without letting go of him, then a little tattoo needle won’t put him off.”

Kíli laughed as he swept Míriel out of my arms and around over his head. “He didn’t have a choice about Finlor’s dagger. He does about the tattoo needle. Come on, Miri! Let’s dance! Your Uncle Lindir is coming back! We’ll have cakes!”

“Bewy cumble!” our little one chirped, drawing laughter.

“Maybe not berry crumble, but apple, maybe, and those wee cakes with the custard –”

“Mmm,” was Míriel’s pronouncement.

“Do you think Lindir will be back in time for luncheon?” Teth wondered. “There is no public luncheon, so we could spare the cooks making two meals and wait for him. If he’ll be later, we can ask for something for ourselves now, and something more when he gets here.”

“We can wait until Lord Elrond tells us how Lindir is,” Rhiannel decided. “He might prefer to rest, and not eat until supper. It should not be long.”

We chatted while we waited, and I passed on Legolas’s request to Teth about the smuggling, and he willingly agreed to speak to the prince when he saw him next. In a few moments, the door to our suite opened, and there was Lord Elrond, his arm supporting Lindir’s. The aide was dressed in a loose dressing gown over his leggings and slippers, and his hair was combed neatly, if unbraided. There was much bustling about as we plumped cushions on the reading couch, fetched a blanket, and found a cup of water.

“Yes, I am hungry,” Lindir replied to one question out of the barrage from all of us. “Yes, my wounds are healed, but I am weak, and likely will be for several more days. No, I don’t remember much of my dreams, though I know I had them... no, wait, I seem to recall seeing all of you in Finlor’s apartments, rushing about, and... playing with piles of gems. Did you find a treasure, then?”

“Valar, Lindir, perhaps you saw us in your dreams,” I breathed. “Yes, we did find a treasure, in a way, but better that we start from the beginning, which is just after you and Teth fought Finlor...”

Teth began our tale, but all of us chimed in at one place or another. Happily, platters of food came, as did Legolas in response to the request I’d promised him, so we were all able to nibble as the tale unfolded. Lindir had many questions, of course, which we answered with all we knew. Eventually, we got to the discovery of Finlor’s jewelry ledger, and the mysterious symbols and groups.

“So we do not want to go further with our experiments about ways to unmake the jewelry until we understand the ledger,” Rhiannel concluded. “You have read so widely, Lindir, that we thought you might decipher the meanings with more luck than we have had.”

Lindir brightened. “Of course I shall try. Do you have the ledger with you?”

We looked among ourselves, but Lord Elrond held up a hand. “Mithrandir has the ledger. He is in Finlor’s apartment, still puzzling over the trinkets. He has brooded over those too much these past two days.”

“I’ll nip up and get him,” Kíli offered. “Those things don’t bother me, so let me go.”

“Kindly offered,” Lord Elrond nodded.

“Just promise me one thing,” Kíli said. “Don’t tell Lindir about what’s in the ledger until I get back. I want to be here when he puzzles out the mystery.”

Lindir chuckled self-consciously. “You act like I will know instantly what it all means, Kíli, which is not likely the case. If all of you have seen nothing familiar about these symbols, then it is likely that I will not, either.”

“I bet you will. Any takers?” Kíli grinned, looking over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

“Only Lindir,” Giriel laughed, “and it would not be fair for him to bet against all of us. He would not be able to pay off his debts when he proves himself wrong.”

Kíli laughed. “Truth. Back in a tick, all.”

 

* * *

 

I left a right raft of laughter behind me as I trotted out of our suite and headed for Finlor’s lair. A pair of Woodland guardsmen and another of Imladris guardsmen watching over the suite greeted me, affirming that the grey wizard was within, and let me pass with a friendly word. I ducked my head into the alchemist’s salon, but found it empty.

“Gandalf?” I called, venturing inside. “Are you in the workroom, then?”

“And what if I am?” came the belligerent reply. My eyebrows went up. That didn’t sound like the wizard’s normal affable self. “My whereabouts are not something I have to account for to anyone!”

I tiptoed a bit farther into the luxurious salon, still littered with glittering piles of trinkets. “Of course not, Gandalf. I just thought you’d be pleased to know that Lindir is awake, and back with us. We’ve explained everything to him, and he’s eager for a look at the jewelry ledger, to see if he can help us with the strange symbols.”

“Oh, he does, does he?” the wizard growled. I slid around the piles of trinkets to stand beside the door to the workroom, and snuck a look around the doorframe. Gandalf was seated before the workbench, hunched over as if he’d had his head in his hands. The jewelry ledger lay closed before him; the larger supply ledger lay open. Had he discovered something vile in that dry list of supplies that had put him in such a foul temper? “I suppose he thinks that just a look or two is all he needs to make sense of everything, does he?”

I blinked in confusion. I’d never heard Gandalf sound so cutting, especially about Lindir. “Well, of course he doesn’t think that, does he? This is Lindir, isn’t it? He’s modest to a fault. But you’ve got to admit that all the books he’s read gives him a better chance of figuring anything out than the rest of us.”

“I’ll do no such thing!” Gandalf snarled so fiercely that I gulped. What in Middle Earth had gotten into him? He sounded enraged –

Oh, Valar, was it those bloody trinkets again? Lord Elrond said Gandalf had spent a lot of time in Finlor’s workroom agonizing over their mysteries. Maybe even a wizard would find himself muddled if he spent too long around so many of these magical things. I had to get him out of here, away from the ring magic.

“Gandalf, come back with me to the guest suites. You need some air, and we’ve laid a good luncheon on, with a few carafes of King Thranduil’s best red wine –”

“Begone with you!” Gandalf bellowed, turning around to glare at me as I peeped around the doorframe.

“I’d be glad to, so why don’t you come with me –”

“I have no intention of going anywhere until I’m quite good and ready!”

“You’re good and ready, all right,” I retorted, standing in the doorway where the wizard could see me. “You’ve let these things right pickle you, and you need to be away from them. Come away from here, Gandalf, before it gets worse!”

“You miserable fool, you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Neither do you, if you want to know. You need to get away from this viper’s nest now!”

Gandalf whirled around and glared at me. “And just who is going to make me?”

“Oh, _skator-u kurvanog vogaumtar_ ,” I muttered. “I guess I have to, since you can’t. I’ve already punched Lord Elrond, and King Thranduil after him. I guess punching a wizard won’t do me any more damage.”

Gandalf started to get out of his chair, but I didn’t let him get to his feet before I’d punched him hard in the solar plexus. His breath gusted out of him, and he folded like old cloth onto the floor. Before he recovered his breath, I grabbed him under his arms and dragged him out of the workroom, through the salon, and out into the hall.

“Oi! Lads!” I yelled to the guardsmen. “Gandalf’s taken ill. Give me a hand!”

Two of the guardsmen ran forward, getting Gandalf between them. “Come on! He needs to get to the guest suites so Lord Elrond can look at him!”

They hurried the groggy wizard between them, so I ducked back into the suite to grab both of the ledgers and then ran after them.

“Don’t let anyone in here!” I told the remaining guardsmen. “It’s not safe! Keep everyone out!"

I raced to catch up to the two guardsmen carrying Gandalf, who had started to struggle, and hurried them along to the suites. They burst into the middle of my comrades, and I raced to Lord Elrond’s side.

“I think the trinkets have gotten into his thoughts,” I said urgently. “He was talking crazily, and he wouldn’t come away. I had to force him out of there.”

Lord Elrond went immediately to the wizard straining to pull away from the guardsmen’s hands. “Put him on the floor!”

The guardsmen obeyed instantly. The high lord pressed his hand forcefully upon the wizard’s brow. _'Kshonna, wanya_!”

Lord Elrond had to repeat his command before a groan escaped the wizard, and he stopped fighting. The high lord looked to the rest of us. “A little wine, I think, but only a very little.”

Rhiannel found the carafe, Giriel found the glass, and I brought the glass to the high lord. He held it to the wizard’s lips.

“Help him to sit up. There. Sip slowly, _mellon nin_. Mithrandir, where is your staff?”

The wizard groaned again as the guardsmen braced his back as he sat up. “In my room, I’m afraid, which proves what a great fool I am. Thank you, Lord Elrond, for your clarity. And thank you, Kíli, for your well-placed blow.”

Everyone’s eyes fell on me.

“You... punched a wizard?” Rhiannel ventured, his voice ripe with incredulity.

I tried to squelch a sheepish grin, especially when Lord Elrond’s eyebrow arched oh-so-slowly, and his lips pursed in amusement. “You have gained quite a penchant for favoring your comrades with your fists. First me, then King Thranduil, and now Mithrandir.”

“You punched the rulers of the two largest Elvish kingdoms in Middle Earth, too?” Giriel gaped. “ _Dahaut_ , Kíli! Are you mad?”

I reddened. “It’s not me that’s mad, is it? It’s you Elves, and that’s because of that bloody alchemist, isn’t it? He keeps sucking the sense out of the lot of you, and what else is a Dwarf to do?”

“What else, indeed?” Lord Elrond grinned, which told me he’d been teasing me. “I know of no other friend who can claim righteous assault against a wizard, a king, and the ruler of Imladris.”

I threw up my hands. “I wish you Elves would stop giving me so many opportunities for such claims. It’s not like I want to provoke any of you, you know – one can turn me into a toad, one can put me in a cell at the bottom of a hole in the ground, and one can banish me from my wife and bairn.”

“We will do no such thing,” the high lord assured me. “I consider myself well fortunate to have such a stout Dwarf by my side to keep me from acting the fool for long.”

“I think I’d better add that to the Blue Mountain Dwarves’ treaty with Imladris,” I mimed a relieved wipe of my brow. “You’re not allowed to penalize a Dwarf for keeping your head straight.”

“Duly noted. Now, Mithrandir, how are you feeling?”

“Only chagrin... and perhaps a slight ache,” the wizard rubbed his stomach gingerly as the guardsmen helped him to his feet. He paced slowly to the nearest chair and sank into it gratefully. “Truly, I thank you, Kíli, for realizing my danger. Those trinkets are far more dangerous than I expected. We should not have piled them together as we did.”

“I told the guardsmen still up there not to let anyone into Finlor’s apartment,” I said. “That’ll help a bit until we can sort out what to do.”

“I will rotate those guardsmen every hour,” Legolas decided. “That will make sure our warriors are not affected, even though they keep their distance.”

“An excellent precaution,” Lord Elrond agreed. “It behooves us to make our plans quickly to complete our study of these things. They continue Finlor’s menace with every moment that passes.”

“Then someone pass me the ledgers,” Lindir spoke up with determination. “Let me see what I can make of these strange symbols.”

I handed both of the ledgers to our friend. “The smaller one is the jewelry ledger. Teth and Rhiannel have looked at it the most of all of us, so they can explain everything to you.”

Teth and Rhiannel knelt one either side of Lindir’s couch, and the trio bent their heads over the jewelry ledger. Teth explained the chronological section of the ledger, then Rhiannel paged to the second section that listed the groups and pointed to the column of strange symbols. Both Elves were set to launch into a detailed explanation when Lindir started to laugh. It was a breathy sound, given the recent injury to his lung, but it was audible enough to still all of us, and rivet our eyes on the aide.

“Oh, Valar,” Lindir said, looking quickly through the next several pages. “Finlor was an astrologer.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Lindir's had a look at Finlor's ledger, and he's sent our intrepid band veering off into the occult - or has he? They'll need all of their combined knowledge to sort through Finlor's esoteric maze of symbols, jewelry, and evil. Will they have enough experience, knowledge, and wisdom to finally make sense of it all? And what does this mean for their plans to unmake Finlor's sinister trinkets?
> 
> Enjoy our troupe's take on a whodunit!

Tethrandil looked suspicious, as if he hadn’t heard Lindir correctly. Lord Elrond had the most unguarded expression of incredulity on his face that I’d ever seen him reveal. Legolas winced, muttered under his breath, and rubbed his eyes as if embarrassed. Lindir was still laughing, while Giriel and Rhiannel regarded each other with skepticism. Gandalf was as disgruntled as if Lindir had made a disparaging joke. As for myself, I wondered whether something I’d heard dismissed as a child had more merit than I’d thought. Kíli looked equally confused.

“All of you look as if someone just tried to sell you magic beans,” my husband said with a wrinkled brow. “But I don’t have the first idea of why. What’s a – what did you call him? An astrol – astrologist?”

“Astrologer,” Lindir corrected. “It is no wonder none of you recognized these symbols. They have been out of use for hundreds of years. Even when they were in popular use, only a few Elves paid them any heed. They were finally relegated to the back of dusty libraries once we understood the true movement of the sky orbs.”

Kíli shook his head in incomprehension. “You’ve right lost me, Lindir. What do the sky orbs have to do with Finlor?”

“I’d like my father to join us,” Legolas said, standing up. “Morning court should be over, and I think he will want to hear this, no matter how embarrassing it is.”

Ah, then perhaps what I’d heard as a child was as silly as I’d been told. Giriel and Rhiannel, the two youngest Elves after me, seemed to think the same thing. In fact, many of my comrades looked to share Legolas’s discomfort, which my husband sensed immediately. “This astrologist – astrologer, I mean... is embarrassing? What is it, then? Something rude?”

“I will not start until you return, Legolas,” Lindir called after the prince.

“I thank you,” Legolas replied as he left our sitting room. “I shall be quick.”

Taking a ginger breath, Lindir turned back to my husband. “It isn’t anything rude, Kíli, only foolish. It is something of a long tale, but I will explain it simply when Legolas and his father join us. Until then, let us fill our glasses and plates again, and settle for the telling.”

Rhiannel and Giriel fetched treats for Lindir and Teth, and Lord Elrond saw to Gandalf. In his turn, Kili was quick to refill plates for the two of us, which Míriel was quick to observe. As Kíli handed the plates to me, our daughter crawled over quickly, mouth already open. Laughing, Kili fetched another plate of tiny morsels that she could choose for herself. He settled cross-legged beside me with Míriel cradled in his lap, and looked expectantly at Lindir as he munched his treats. He didn’t have long to wait. In a few moments, King Thranduil and Legolas joined us. The king had shed his crown and audience coat, and was clad simply in tunic and breeches as were the rest of us.

“Legolas tells me that the story has turned to the absurd,” King Thranduil said in an unamused tone, as he and Legolas helped themselves to luncheon. “The alchemist dabbled in astrology?”

“It may be so, my lord,” Lindir said in a subdued tone as if in apology, for the king’s tone had been scathingly unimpressed. “First, I want to explain what astrology is, for Kíli’s sake. I do not think his folk have any knowledge of it.”

“Maybe some Dwarves do,” Kíli said, “but I don’t. I’ve never heard of it.”

“Then your folk are better off,” was the king’s acid opinion, but his tone softened as he offered a bow to our bookish aide. “Lindir, please.”

“Thank you, my lord. Many, many centuries ago,” Lindir began, “Elves first considered the sky orbs that move among the stars. You know of the sky orbs, Kíli?”

“The sun and the moon, of course,” he nodded. “And the five travelers, yes?”

“That is so,” Lindir agreed. “Before we understood what these five travelers were, many elaborate tales were spun about them, and how they journeyed across the sky without ever touching the stars. Some considered them ships of the Maiar. This seemed plausible when Elvish craftsmen developed the glasses that allowed them to see the travelers more closely, as we look at the face of the moon. The five travelers are orbs like the sun and the moon, and not merely bright points like the stars.”

“That doesn’t sound embarrassing,” Kíli ventured, feeding Míriel a bite of custard cake. “It sounds... reasonable, to be honest.”

“So it is, as far as I have told the tale.” Lindir took a sip of wine. “But some foolish Elves went beyond what they could see in the glasses, and began to ascribe qualities to each traveler based on which Maiar they thought guided it. That is how our old songs about the sun and moon began, because Maiar were said to guide them both – Arien, the sun; and Tilion, the moon – ”

“The Maiar do not guide the sun and the moon,” Gandalf said snappishly.

“You know better than I, Mithrandir,” Lindir said respectfully. “I try only to explain to Kíli about the astrologers.”

The wizard waved a hand, allowing Lindir to continue.

 “Then someone spread the idea that the travelers, the sun, and the moon affected the lives of folk,” Lindir went on. “We know they affect things such as sea tides or such, but this influence was said to affect moods, or change relationships between folk. They claimed that dire consequences could result unless folk were careful.”

Kíli’s eyebrows rose. “Folk believed this?”

“It was very fashionable in Ost-in-Edhil, the capitol of Eregion, or Hollin, as it was also known, during the early part of the Second Age,” Lord Elrond admitted with a sigh. “When Sauron destroyed that land, I fled to establish Imladris. I regret to say that this astrology came with us to Imladris. It swept east before it finally died out.”

“It was not merely fashionable,” King Thranduil commented, almost spitting the final word. “It was profitable. It ran so rampant through my father’s court that he tried to ban it, but the ban was never entirely successful. It wasn’t until astronomers learned the truth about the motion of the travelers that the practice finally died out.”

Kíli still struggled to understand. “Astronomers... I gather they are different from astrologers?”

Most of us nodded.

“And you mentioned the true motion of the travelers, which I don’t understand. But before you explain those, Lindir, would someone explain to me how this was profitable, and for whom? I don’t see how talking about the travelers makes anyone anything. They move the same way all the time, don’t they? Or do you allude to something different when you say the ‘true motion’ of the travelers?”

“Some folk set themselves up as seers, claiming that the travelers were the Maiar interacting with one another – one flirted with another, say, or two argued. These seers claimed further that the interactions boded well or poorly for each of us, and that only they knew what folk needed to do to avert the Maiar’s anger or attract the Maiar’s favor. For a fee, the seer would tell you how to change your luck, or gain the love of the one you desire, or attract the notice of business interests, for example,” Lindir explained.

“The most profit came to the seers,” King Thranduil added in a tone of utter disgust, “who convinced their customers that only regular and frequent consultations would avert disaster.”

Kíli’s face cleared. “Ah. So it’s a kind of fortunetelling, but meaner.”

The rest of us looked among ourselves. “What is fortunetelling, Kíli?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s a popular spectacle at many Dwarvish festivals,” he explained. “It’s just a lark that mostly young maids and lads fancy. An old mystic offers to look at the irises of your eyes and the lines in your hand and the whorls of your ears, and tell you whether you’ll marry a pretty Dwarf maid, or die gloriously in battle, or how many bairns you’ll have. No one cares about the fortune much – it’s the show that you pay your penny to see. The best fortunetellers can pull a magic coin out of your ear. Or they have a talking puppet, or a gazing ball that glows in different colors.”

“Astrological seers are equal showmen,” was King Thranduil’s sour observation. “But they are less honest about the nature of their show. They claim they offer no spectacle, only truth.”

“So these astrologers are fortunetellers,” Kíli said. “I understand that. What is an astronomer, then?”

“One who studies the sky,” Lindir answered, “to understand how the sky orbs – sun, moon, and five travelers – move, and what that tells them about other things.”

“Is this where the ‘true movement’ you mentioned comes in?” Kíli asked.

Lindir nodded. “Yes. The astronomers did not understand how the five travelers moved. They seemed to go back and forth at random. Then a very wise Elf noted that the assumed arrangement of the sky orbs was wrong, because we had not yet recognized that Middle Earth was part of a sky orb, too. And if one placed the sun in the center of the others, and made the others circle the sun, then the motion made sense. And that was the end of astrology.”

Kíli looked blank. “Why was it the end? Couldn’t the seers still claim that the motion of the travelers affected folk?”

Lindir shook his head. “The seers had based their myth on this orb, the one containing Middle Earth, being in the center. When we understood that the sun had to be in the center, then all the astrological claims of Maiar flirting or arguing, and needing placation or enticement, were wrong, because each traveler moves alone and never crosses paths with another. The entire scheme collapsed in the space of a very few years, and was forgotten by all but a few who embraced it as a cautionary tale about the dangers of certainty.”

Kíli thought about that, finally nodding. “Oh, I see. The astrologers didn’t know the sun was in the middle. I never heard of Dwarves thinking that, but our lives are so much shorter than yours that maybe we thought as these astrologers did a long time ago, but have forgotten since.”

“So how do you know that Finlor was an astrologer, Lindir?” Rhiannel asked.

Lindir pointed to the ledger. “Finlor’s symbols are those that the astrologers used so long ago to identify the sky orbs. For example, see this one? That is the ancient symbol of the moon. This next one is the symbol for the sun.”

Teth looked at the page intently, pulling at his lower lip. “There are just seven symbols here.”

Lindir looked at the page. “Sun, moon, and five travelers, yes.”

“Was there no symbol for the astrologists’ center? For Middle Earth?” Teth asked.

“There was a symbol, yes,” Lindir said. “It was a very important one.”

“So there were eight symbols, but Finlor’s book has only seven?” Rhiannel mulled that. “Which one is lacking? The one for the center?”

Lindir looked closely. “It seems so. Hmm. That is odd. If Finlor arranged his groups astrologically, then each one would need a center. None of the group has a center.”

“What is the symbol for the center?” Rhiannel asked.

“A solid disk – a filled circle.”

Rhiannel held his hands out, beckoning Lindir to give him the book. “I am sure I have seen that symbol somewhere in this book. I didn’t know what it meant. May I look?”

When Lindir passed the book to Rhiannel, Giriel moved to his side. “I remember seeing it, too, Rhiannel. Perhaps at the end of the groups?”

The pair turned to the last page of the section and leafed back through it, each scanning one side of the ledger. “There it is!” Giriel jabbed her index finger at the page. “That’s it. When I first saw it, I thought he’d gotten bored and drew drabbles in the margin.”

“Yes, that is what I saw, too,” Rhiannel confirmed, taking the book to Lindir. “There. Four of them. Are they the symbols for the center, Lindir?”

“They could well be,” Lindir confirmed. “They are slightly bigger than the other symbols, which was often the case in the old books I saw.”

Lindir turned the book upside down and laid it on his lap, so that all of us could peer at it. As I took my turn, I saw the four filled dots on the page, one below the other. Beside each dot was a ledger entry.

“These entries are different from the others,” I pointed. “There are no owner’s names for them.”

King Thranduil peered at the first entry. “ ‘Dark emerald oval cabochon, four carats, yellow gold band with beading,’ ” he read. “ ‘Seven-pointed amethyst flower of three-quarter carat faceted daggers, half carat center yellow adamant, yellow gold filigree setting.’ ‘Four-strand twined band, white, green, pink and yellow gold.’ ‘Sardonyx and orange chalcedony pendant, carved viper, topaz eyes, quarter carat each, banded in yellow gold on gold linked chain.’ ”

Gandalf flinched as if one of Beorn’s great bees had stung him. “The great villain!”

“What is it, Mithrandir?” King Thranduil sat up to regard the wizard with concern.

“Of course there are no names beside those entries,” the wizard growled, looking furious as he dug through the pockets in his robe. He fished out a quartet of Finlor’s trinkets – but not just any trinkets. When he tossed them onto the open ledger with a growl, we saw the realities behind the bland descriptions that King Thranduil had just read to us.

The questions that came from our mouths were all variations of “Where did you get those?”

Gandalf muttered another incomprehensible imprecation under his breath. “They are Finlor’s. The twined ring is his ring of invisibility. The amethyst ring was the other ring that Lindir tore from his hand, which I retrieved from the main hall. The pendant and the emerald I took from his body in the _Glawar-galad_.”

“That explains why none of the groups had a center,” Lindir said. “Finlor was the center for all of them.”

Giriel picked up the book again. She turned it sideways and tried to read something in the center of the page. “He’s written something here, in the gutter – how appropriate. But I can’t make out what it says.” She stared hard at it for another second. “Kíli, look at this. I think it’s Black Speech.”

She passed the book to Kíli, who squinted at the scrawl of characters above Giriel’s finger. “The characters are very small... Oh, Valar. He really was a bastard. It says, ‘ _Vorbat lajili marr vaut-ob bazat mir stargusi prasogug pulgoruz zani-_ _ûr_.’”

“What does it mean?” I asked.

Kíli’s face was grim. “ ‘Blind patterns of a stupid time make good ancestors for the decaying Forest Elves.’”

“He used those discredited symbols as an insult, then,” Legolas said quietly. “He considered our kingdom no more enlightened than an abandoned view of the night sky.”

“So he did,” Gandalf said heavily. “But I don’t think insult was his only intent. Why arrange these things so elaborately for mere insult in a ledger only he would see?”

“I may have the answer to that.” Lord Elrond leaned forward to help himself to a cluster of grapes. There was indecision in the way he studied the fruit, as if he considered more than Finlor’s trinkets, and he was silent for some seconds. Out of respect for the high lord, the rest of us remained silent – but for Míriel asking Kíli for more water – and let him come to the end of his thoughts.

“I am loath to speak much about the nature of Finlor’s magic. It is dangerous, even when wielded by those with benign intent, for evil hands can easily misuse the product of their intent. You have seen the truth of this, and so I trust you understand why I am reluctant to speak of what little I know of it. All of us, even a great wizard, can run afoul of this magic, especially when it combines in some fashion as it has when we brought so many pieces of Finlor’s work together.”

“Of course,” I said softly. “Of course.”

Many pairs of eyes turned towards me.

“You do not have to speak of the magic, Lord Elrond. I see why Finlor arranged his ledger as he did.”

“You do?” Kíli paused to look at me, a morsel of bun in his fingers for Míriel. She took advantage of his inattention to grab an entire cream cake for herself. “Why did he care about the social groups?”

“They were the perfect means for him – oh, he was a clever strategist!”

 “Yes, explain, Tauriel... please,” the king amended, as Kíli tried to keep Míriel from cramming the entire cake in her mouth.

I jumped up to pace around the room, so charged was I. “I remember what you said about the nature of the dragon’s blood in Finlor’s pieces, my lord. You said its effect was twofold – the first to attract attention to the wearer, and the second to draw the wearer’s attention back to Finlor. His goal, then, was to have most of the court paying him court. But he was careful of how he pursued that. First, he avoided the Sindar – the highest of the Woodland Elves. I do not recall seeing the name of a single Sindarin Elf in Finlor’s ledger – Legolas, you and the king can confirm that for us better than I. Second, he did not want too many of his pieces to come into close contact, so he clustered pieces in groups that rarely crossed paths. Why did he do either of these two things? Because he did not want to be found out. He sought to cloak his influence, just as his ring of invisibility cloaked him.”

“Brilliant!” Kíli grinned at me proudly. “Valar, Tauriel, that was brilliant! Miri, your Mami is the smartest Elven strategist in Middle Earth!”

“Mami!” was Míriel’s enthusiastic endorsement of Kíli’s sentiment, which was met with laughter.

“She may well be,” Lord Elrond nodded, smiling. “That was well reasoned, indeed. My highest compliments, Tauriel! You have solved our puzzle.”

Gratified, I bowed to the high lord. “There are still a few things we must know, I think. First, how he decided to group certain pieces together.”

It was Gandalf that answered that one, and for the first time this morn his expression was more serene. “The answer to that will only confirm your understanding of Finlor’s strategy, Tauriel. The groupings never repeated pieces of the same combination of gold and gems. If a piece combined yellow gold with amethysts, then no other piece in the group had the same combination.”

Lord Elrond nodded. “That makes sense. Two pieces of the same combination might have combined to exert a stronger influence, which might have brought notice to Finlor’s infiltration.”

“Two pieces of disparate harmonies might have raised discord that would have been noticed, too,” Rhiannel suggested.

“Also truth.” Gandalf nodded.

“What about the colors of ink?” Giriel asked. “Does that mean anything?”

Rhiannel tapped his finger against his chin. “I think red means ruby, blue means sapphire, green means emerald, and the slightly darker blue means amethyst. It was a shorthand to show which gems were in a group.”

“That’s enough for me,” Kíli stood up. “I hope it’s enough for all of you, so I can start to dismantle these things. I don’t want to delay much longer.”

“You have a concern, Kíli?” Lord Elrond asked, frowning at my husband.

“You’re bloody right I have a concern,” he nodded emphatically. “Those so-called trinkets have made right fools out of every one of us, except me. I don’t know how long that will hold true. Half of me is as Elvish as you, and given what a viper Finlor was, I don’t want to give his poison any more time to winkle past the Dwarf and strike at the Elf. I’ve got to unmake these things, and I don’t want to unmake myself in the doing. So every instinct tells me that we need to set about this as quick as we can.”

“So we must bring that about,” King Thranduil said. “We must determine which pieces we have, and we must gather those that we do not. We must keep the ones we have from affecting us until Kíli can unmake them. And we must determine what unmaking means.”

“I have an idea about how to keep the pieces from affecting us until Kíli can unmake them,” Lindir offered. “If we separate the pieces into their groups, and put each group in a mithril box, then that should keep their influence contained.”

“Excellent, Lindir,” the king nodded.

“If we work together in short shifts to sort the pieces by group, we can go through the ledger to mark what we have,” Teth went on. “Then we know who has the extant pieces and can pursue them accordingly.”

“Also excellent,” Lord Elrond agreed. “Let us proceed this way, then. Kíli, since you must spend time with the pieces to unmake them, you must stay away from them while the rest of us sort. Rhiannel, Giriel, Lindir, Teth, and Tauriel, the burden of the sorting falls to you. Thranduil, you and Legolas are the best ones to oversee the collection of the missing pieces. If any of us, or our Imladris guardsmen, can help you, we will gladly do so. Gandalf, you and I must advise Kíli as to the best ways to unmake the gems. We have already talked briefly of this, but I think Kíli’s concern about proceeding quickly has merit, and we should shift our plans accordingly.”

All of us were ready to begin our final assault on the mountain of Finlor’s evil. I joined all of the Orc Spawn Elves by Lindir’s couch to discuss how we would proceed, and Lord Elrond, the king, Legolas, and Gandalf gathered to discuss their details. That left Kíli with Míriel, and they happily perused the luncheon remnants together. There would be few crumbs to sweep up from that assault.

“Come on, Miri,” Kíli murmured to our babe in a gleeful whisper. “There’s no one to tell us not to eat the last of the custard cakes today!”

“Mmm,” was Míriel’s equally gleeful reply.


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Kili has a conversation with Lord Elrond and Gandalf about more than Finlor's lousy trinkets.
> 
> This is a short chapter. You'll see why. Let's just say that there are times when I HATE having to write to JRRT's canon.

Miri and I were left to pillage the remains of the luncheon platters in peace. It was a blessing from the Valar to forget about everything but my stomach and my bairn for a few moments. Through all of this turmoil, Míriel had been the best bairn, happy to play quietly with a toy or to sit contentedly in someone’s lap, while her parents, auntie, uncles, and friends sorted through one thing or another. Maybe she found our chatter and bustle entertaining, and she was fortunate that almost everyone around her was happy to let her crawl into his or her lap, or pat at a shiny button or necklace or buckle. Still, I didn’t want her to grow up content to wait for her elders to make time for her. I wanted this business of Finlor’s cruel legacy to be done for many reasons, but one of them was to dispense with so much urgency, so I could take my bairn to the garden to splash in the pool, or walk among the flowers again.

Before long, the rest of the Orc Spawn went off to Finlor’s apartment to begin their sorting. King Thranduil and Legolas went back to governing. Lord Elrond and Gandalf retreated to the high lord’s suite. Our sitting room settled into an unfamiliar quiet that was as welcome as the touch of a soft breeze. Míriel and I sat on the carpet with the last remains of luncheon on a platter between us, and shared a sigh.

“I think I’m full, Míriel,” I said. Grinning, my daughter grabbed a piece of custard cake with one hand and a huge green grape with the other. “Oh, you don’t have teeth enough yet for that grape, little jewel. Eat your custard instead.”

I extracted the grape from her fist by trying to eat the custard cake from her fingers, which diverted her attention away from the grape so I could slip it away. She smeared half of the custard over her face, spilled another bit down her top, and finally got the remaining bit got into her mouth. She sighed deeply as she gummed it, drawing my giggle.

“You’re a right mess, you are. I’d better give you a good wash and find you a clean top.”

“Wadu?” she held up her sticky hands.

“Lots of wadu, and a fair load of soap, too.” No one was around to complain, so I belched loudly. Elvish manners were one thing, but I was glad for the chance to express a proper Dwarvish appreciation of good food. Míriel was appreciative of my efforts, for her eyes widened and she laughed uproariously. “Oh, that’s better, isn’t it, Miri? It’s too bad Elves don’t consider a good belch as the compliment it is. But you do, don’t you?”

“Funny Tada,” she laughed. “Funny!”

I belched again, louder and longer. How many hours had Fíli and I spent perfecting the refined art of loud belches? I remembered a certain supper two long years ago, when Uncle Thorin’s company had descended upon Bilbo’s hobbit hole and eaten his pantry all but bare. Nori had started the belching compliments after that bounteous supper, but the youngest of us, Ori, had proved himself the master of the most stupendous of belches as well as the most outrageous of farts. Bilbo should have felt greatly honored, but instead he was hilariously indignant. Oh, Valar, that had been funny!

So much had happened since then.

I looked down at my giggling daughter. I mustered one more belch for her, this one small, but she still cackled uncontrollably. Chuckling, I gathered her up. I had to hold her at arm’s length to keep from dripping her remnants over my clothes.

“Come on, Míriel. Into the wadu with you.”

I spent a pleasant time soaking Míriel back to some semblance of cleanliness. Once she was dried and dressed, we played with her toys until she was ready to crawl into my arms for songs and stories, rocking and toe tickling, cuddling and blanket hiding. At length, she took on her familiar cross-eyed look of contemplation. Normally, I would have settled her in her cradle, but given the mad rush of the past days, I was content to hold her in my arms and savor her warmth. I walked back and forth across the sitting room, humming, and when she settled more completely, I made myself comfortable on one of the reading couches. My little daughter was a comforting weight on my chest as she rested.

In time, Lord Elrond and Gandalf returned to the sitting room to find me still cradling Míriel on the reading couch. I greeted them with a smile, but didn’t speak, as I didn’t want to upset Míriel’s contemplation. The high lord and the wizard tiptoed closer, both of them regarding Míriel with affection.

“Our puzzle seems to have worn out our youngest searcher,” Lord Elrond greeted.

I snorted, but softly, and smiled as I rubbed Míriel’s back slowly. “A very large luncheon had more to do with it. I didn’t mind. With all the excitement of the last few days, I haven’t gotten to be with her as much as usual, and I’ve missed her. So... how can I help you and Gandalf, my lord?”

“We thought it prudent to discuss how to unmake Finlor’s trinkets while the Orc Spawn are sorting,” Lord Elrond replied.

“I’ll just put Míriel in her cradle for a bit, and then I can give you my full attention. If one of you would mind holding her for a moment, I’ll fetch her cradle, so I can keep an eye and an ear out while we’re talking...”

Gandalf smoothed his beard and gave me a smile as he held out his arms. “Delighted.”

I carefully put my daughter in Gandalf’s arms, fetched her cradle from my bedchamber, and carried it back into the sitting room. I put it by the reading couch, and settled Míriel in it with her blanket and Troli’s doll. She settled with a sigh, and I brought chairs for my visitors.

“She’s happy,” I said, as the high lord and the wizard made themselves comfortable in their chairs. I arranged myself cross-legged on the reading couch to regard them.

“Does Míriel sleep, then?” Gandalf asked, regarding my bairn curiously.

I shook my head. “Not the way I do. I call it contemplating her toes, because when Míriel was first born, she was so used to being folded up small inside Tauriel that she curled up the same way in her cradle. She’d often pat her toes, or hold onto them. She still can chew on them when it suits her. When she does that, Tauriel laughs and calls her a Dwelfling – she chews her toes as a Dwarf, restores herself as an Elf, and is still a small bairn, so... Dwelfling.”

“An apt term,” Lord Elrond agreed.

“Will she –” I squelched my impulsive question before it was fully formed.

“Will she... what?” Lord Elrond asked.

I waved my hand. “Never mind. Now isn’t the time. You wanted to talk about unmaking the gems.”

“Are you concerned about Míriel in some way?” Lord Elrond persisted.

“No, not concerned... curious. Hopeful. I’m still sorting out what it means if my father was an Elf, and what it means for Míriel as well as me. Gandalf, you’ve said things a time or two that tell me you don’t just think my father was a Teleri Elf – you know he was. How do you know?”

“Teleri?” The wizard made a half-hearted attempt to look innocuous and surprised, all upraised eyebrows and wide innocent eyes, but I snorted as he stroked his beard again. Even Lord Elrond’s gentle look told Gandalf that neither of us believed his dissembling. “Teleri. One of the seafaring folk. How interesting.”

I snorted again. “Gandalf, don’t be provocative when I can’t ask you about what you mean, and coy when I can. How do you know? And don’t tell me the shape of my ears are suggestive.”

“Suggestive ears?” Lord Elrond repeated with a laugh. “Who told you that?”

“An Elvish apothecary, who had the kindness to tell me so when I asked him straight out what he thought my father was. Look, I don’t care so much who he was, as what, because if having an Elf, any kind of Elf, for a father means I have more years ahead of me with Tauriel, Míriel, and any other bairns who follow Míriel, then I want to know that. I don’t have to tell you what a joy that would be. And if I am half Elvish, then that makes Míriel three-quarters Elvish, so maybe she’d have an Elvish lifespan, too.”

Lord Elrond and Gandalf exchanged glances. The high lord cocked his head at the wizard and gestured towards me. Gandalf’s grey-blue eyes seemed to swirl, but he didn’t try to evade me.

“Well. When you are not thinking about anything in particular, Kíli, you have the air of an Elf,” he said.

I snorted. “I’ve been called fey all my life, Gandalf. That was the short end of the stick. The long end was called too tall, too dark, odd hair, no beard, no pelt, and long bones. There’s naught new in that.”

Gandalf looked affronted, but Lord Elrond put a patient hand on Gandalf’s shoulder, so the wizard’s glare softened. “The long end, as you call it, would never have mattered if not for the short end, Kili. You carry your father’s grace in the way you move, and you have something of his otherworldliness in repose. Those are not signs of madness, or idiocy, or whatever other insult the ignorant tried to heap on you. Those are signs of the Eldar.”

I digested that. “So... my father was an Elf.”

Gandalf nodded. “I do not doubt it.”

“Nor I,” Lord Elrond confirmed in a soft but firm voice.

I felt elated, yet confused at the same time. I think deep in my heart I also felt a little betrayed, because Maamr had never told me herself. But while she had steadfastly refused to speak a single word about my father, that refusal had spoken volumes about what might have made her hold silence. It must have been a promise, or an oath of honor, but to whom? My uncle? My grandparents? My father’s family? After almost eighty years, it hardly mattered to me. The important thing was what being half Dwarf, half Elf meant to my family and me.

“Forgive my impertinence, Lord Elrond, but in Imladris I was told that you are half Elf, half Man, and you got to choose whether to live as an Elf or as a Man. Do I get to choose, too?”

“You were told correctly,” the high lord leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “But what that means for you, I do not know.”

“How did you get to choose?”

“Manwë –”

“What? You mean the bloody high king of the Ainur?” I gaped.

Lord Elrond nodded without impatience. “Manwë offers the choice to certain of the half-Elven. It is not a choice offered to all. I do not know if such a choice will be offered to you.”

“Because I’m part Dwarf, not part Man?”

“Whether your mother’s folk play into the choice, I do not know. More depends on the lineage of your father.”

“So the half-Elven of only certain Elvish families get to choose, then?” Lord Elrond nodded. “Ah. So likely.... I won’t.”

Lord Elrond looked sad. “Likely not. I am sorry.”

I swallowed. I hadn’t realized I’d gotten my hopes up so high, but on the heels of that I realized that it would have been impossible for me to do anything else. The thought of living for hundreds of years beside my fierce Elf warrior maid had become a hunger in my heart, and now, to have it taken away.... For a few seconds, I felt as if a dagger had run me through, and my hunger turned into an ache beyond anything I had ever imagined, short of grieving for my dead brother. Maybe I’d live past the three hundred years allotted to a Dwarf, but little more. I tried to swallow the bitterest disappointment I’d ever tasted in my life.

How many times had I hated being called the son of an Elf as a young Dwarf? Then, just when I found a promise in those old insults, the promise turned out to be only cruel irony, because the promise wasn’t offered to me.

“Can I Sail?”

“That may be possible. But...” Lord Elrond’s voice fell to the softest, gentlest murmur. “Even if a place in Valinor is accorded to you, it will not extend the length of the mortal life given to you.”

“So... no matter what, Tauriel will outlive me. She’ll outlive all of her children, too, and theirs after them.” I shut my eyes. “I’ve done a terrible thing, then. I’ve doomed her to an emptiness that I can’t fill. I can’t stay with her, and I’ve made sure our children can’t, either. Oh, Valar. Oh, Valar.”

My eyes burned, and my lungs caught when I thought about the hurt I’d done my most precious _amrâlimê_. I was going to cry in front of Middle Earth’s most important Elf and an equally important wizard if I didn’t do something. When a hand came to rest on my shoulder, I bit the inside of my cheek hard to keep my composure.

“Kíli –”

“Never mind, then,” I said, trying desperately to sound nonchalant, but my voice shook despite my best efforts otherwise. “You didn’t come here to talk about a Dwarf’s delusions. You came to talk about unmaking Finlor’s _dahaut_. If I don’t have as long as I wanted with Tauriel, then I’ll have to make the most of the time I do have, and getting rid of that _skator-u_ jewelry stands in the way of me doing so. What can you tell me that’ll help me to see it done?”

“It will wait until we have the trinkets sorted and those missing collected,” Gandalf said, trying to be kind, but I didn’t want to think about what I’d done, I didn’t want to think about leaving Tauriel, I didn’t want to think about anything –

“Tell me,” I growled. “Just tell me.”

“Kíli...”

“Just tell me!” I snarled. “For all the Valar, both of you, just tell me!”

“Once we have accounted for all of the pieces,” Gandalf said with so much compassion in his voice that I hated him with every fiber of my being, “you need only remove the gems. They suffer no taint, but as we suspected have only acted as lenses to focus the intent of the gold and the dragon’s blood.”

“Remove the gems. Go on,” I said through gritted teeth.

“You will be able to melt the similar kinds of gold as a whole, rather than individually by setting. Pink, green, gold, and white. Four batches.”

“Melt the gold in four batches by color. Go on.”

“The heat must be very hot so that the dragon’s blood burns away quickly. Once it melts and the blood is gone, hold the melted gold at that heat for an hour to dissipate the ring magic. You may cast the gold in ingots for it to be reused as you prefer.”

“High heat for an hour, cast as the king prefers. I don’t care.”

“I will ask him,” Lord Elrond said.

I nodded. “I thank you. I’ll be ready when you need me.”

“The sorting is progressing well,” Lord Elrond went on. “The Orc Spawn have already boxed three partial groups, and Legolas is pursuing the outstanding pieces with the guard. This will come to an end soon.”

I nodded again. “I thank you. I’ll dispense of the necklace right after, and then maybe we can get to the Dwarves’ treaty.”

“We will see both of those things done.”

I ventured a smile. “Valar, both of you. You’re the high lord and the wizard. It isn’t your place to worry about a Dwarf.”

“It is exactly my place,” Gandalf said firmly. “You have taken a cruel blow, and I am sorry to have had a part in it.”

I shrugged. “My brother’s dead, and so is my uncle. So are a lot of other folk. I should have been among them. Everything that came after Erebor, everything that comes after this, is a blessing. I just... wish my blessing didn’t come at Tauriel’s expense. She deserves better.”

There was nothing Lord Elrond or Gandalf could say to that, so they didn’t try. They got up, bade me goodbye, and left the suite.

I looked down at Míriel, even though my eyes were too blurry to see her.

 

* * *

 

_“There is nothing you can say to intercede with Manwë, Mithrandir?”_

_“I am his Maiar, not the Valar himself.”_

_“It is a cruel blow that we dealt Kíli.”_

_“The burden we bear for the blows we deal, even unwillingly, is the reason why so many of your folk Sail, and the reason why so many of mine fail in their charge. There is no allowance made for fairness or fitness."_

_“Or compassion, either.”_

_“Or happiness.”_


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. After the previous chapter's devastation, maybe Kili and Tauriel have a few more possibilities than they did, and they're ready to soldier on.
> 
> It's all due to Lindir. He's the best friend ever.

_Lindir looked up from his book as Lord Elrond let himself into the suite. The high lord’s face was drawn, and he leaned back against the door after he closed it._

_“My lord?” Lindir ventured, putting his book aside. “What is it?”_

_Lord Elrond waved a hand, telling Lindir not to get up from the reading couch. As Lindir eased himself carefully back against his pillows, the high lord pushed himself away from the door, stripped off his over tunic, and dropped it on the nearest chair. He poured himself a glass of wine and slumped in the chair beside Lindir’s reading couch. Then he told Lindir about his conversation with Kíli._

_“The Eldar... we are so much older than the mortal races. We forget what it is like to have such hope, such fire... we do not know what it is like to hope we might have a different path, only to have that hope dashed so completely.”_

_Lindir’s throat closed. He couldn’t imagine how devastated Kíli must feel, but he tried. What if Lord Elrond had told Lindir that he was doomed to a mortal death without his loved ones?_

_There must be something that offered Kíli a different path. Lindir had read so many books, so many books... he shut his eyes, partially in sympathy for the Dwarf who had become such a close friend, but mostly in concentration. There had been few books about the Dwarves in the Imladris library, but there had been some..._

_“What could I have said differently to cushion the blow? Tell him gently that it is only the family of Eärendil that is offered the choice?”_

_Lindir opened his eyes. Lord Elrond leaned his head against the back of his chair, and rubbed his temple wearily. He held his wine glass loosely in his other hand. This despondent picture of the high lord was one few saw – perhaps his children Arwen, Elladan, and Elrohir did, but Lindir was the only other. Now he had even more reason to consider all the books he’d read. Both his lord and his friend were in despair._

_“Perhaps... I read a story...”_

_Lord Elrond’s eyes opened. He raised his head a hair. “What story?”_

_Lindir shut his eyes, concentrating. “It was long ago. It was about the making of the Dwarves.”_

_“Aulë made the seven fathers of the Dwarves, whom Eru Ilúvatar adopted.”_

_Lindir nodded. “Aulë made the Dwarves neither mortal nor immortal. I do not know what that means, but if Dwarves are not exactly mortal, then perhaps the question of what would happen to Kíli in Arda is not as settled as you think.”_

_Lord Elrond stared at Lindir. “Go on.”_

_“The gift to choose has been offered only to your family, which is of Elves and Men. Both races hold to Eru Ilúvatar. There has never been a family of Elves and Dwarves before. I thought such a mix was impossible. But Kíli himself, as well as Míriel, disproves that. So it may be that choices would be offered to Kíli and his children because they are unique.”_

_Lord Elrond considered for long minutes. Lindir had seen this deep thought many times before, but this time, he awaited its conclusion with apprehension. Perhaps his recollection was incomplete, or perhaps it was wrong. He desperately hoped it was neither. It would not offer Kíli surety – little in life did – but it would him offer hope. All Kíli’s bright fire needed to flourish was hope, and if Lindir could offer him that, he would._

_“You offer hope, indeed,” Lord Elrond said, as if he’d heard Lindir’s thoughts. “I will pass your tale to Mithrandir. It is hard enough to petition Manwë, even for a Maiar. But to petition Aulë, too, and ask them to intercede with Eru Ilúvatar as well... that will take time.”_

_Lindir smiled. “We have that, I hope. Both Dwarves and Elves have long lives.”_

_Lord Elrond leaned forward, his expression a little eased. He clasped Lindir’s shoulder, careful not to press too tightly on still healing flesh. “I thank you.”_

_“May I tell Kíli? He is surely distressed.”_

_“That would be a kindness.”_

_Lindir swung his legs over the side of the reading couch and rose. He didn’t bother to change out of his dressing gown before he headed for Kíli’s suite._

 

* * *

 

From somewhere far away, I heard the knock on the door, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want anyone to see me. I wanted to drink my despair into oblivion alone, in silence.

The knock sounded again.

It wasn’t Tauriel. She wouldn’t knock to enter her own suite. It wasn’t the Orc Spawn. They wouldn’t knock either, for the same reason. It wasn’t anyone I could bear to see, then – what was I saying? I couldn’t bear to see anyone, but I especially couldn’t bear to see Tauriel, my most precious _amrâlimê_ , or my closest friends –

The knock sounded again.

I shut my eyes. If I couldn’t see the door, maybe whoever was on the other side of it would disappear.

The door opened.

“Sod off, whoever the fuck you are. I’m not at home.”

The door closed.

Good. Whoever had come in had gone out.

“Kíli.”

Oh, _barathar skator_ fucking _nar thos_ , whoever had come in had stayed in. I opened a bleary eye.

“Go away – oh, _dahaut_. Lindir. Just... please... go away.”

Quiet steps crossed the carpet. Lindir’s dressing gown made a soft sound as he sat in the chair beside my reading couch.

“Lord Elrond told me.”

I tried to laugh, but it didn’t come off. “Did he? Kind of him.”

“I came to tell you a story.”

I tried to laugh again, and failed even more miserably. “I’m right out of patience with stories, Lindir. I’ve had my own story splintered, and –”

“It might not be, Kíli. Please, let me tell you a different one.”

I swallowed hard. I was flat out of bravado and everything else, everything but despair. “Did he tell you what a fool I was to marry Tauriel? That it doesn’t matter what my father was, Elf, Man, Dwarf, Orc, or chipmunk, I’m still mortal, and all my children are mortal, too, so when I married an immortal Elf, I condemned her to losing her entire family? That she’ll have to live on alone for time immemorial after we die? What possessed me to do that to her? What?”

Hands grasped my shoulders and gave me a gentle shake. “Yes, he told me all of that. And here is what I told him. His tale is about a single family whose half Elf, half Man members were offered the choice between lives as Men or Elves because a Maiar, Melian, was in the family line. It is _not_ a tale about a family that mixes Elves and Dwarves. There is no guarantee that those two tales have the same ending.”

I blinked until I saw Lindir’s determined face gazing at me. He shook me by the shoulders again.

“Ilúvatar Eru made Elves and Men, Kíli. He did not make Dwarves. Aulë made Dwarves. Dwarves are not immortal as Elves are, but they are not mortal as Men are, either. They are something else. I do not know what that means. Nor do I know what happens to one who is half Elf, half Dwarf. Your family is a first, and it is by no means certain what rules apply. So I do not offer you certainty. Only uncertainty, and in that uncertainty lies hope.”

I swallowed painfully; another gulp of wine helped to ease my throat. I focused on Lindir’s pale face. His eyes were serious, unblinking, even pleading. I’d managed to down only half a glass of wine since Lord Elrond had departed, so it wasn’t drunkenness that clouded my thoughts, only my despair. I tried to shove it aside to understand, to dare to hope. Maybe Lindir hadn’t given me any certainty, but he’d managed to erase Lord Elrond’s certainty. So I was no worse off than I was before I talked to the high lord and Gandalf.

I pulled that Elf to my chest, and hugged him hard.

“It isn’t for myself that I care,” I tried to explain. “I don’t care for me.”

“I know. You worry that Tauriel will be left alone.”

“Yes. Yes.”

“Legolas told me something. His mother is dead, at the hand of Orcs, long ago. King Thranduil still cannot speak of it. So even the Eldar who marry each other risk a life alone. Tauriel is not the only one.”

“She’s the only one for whom it’s certain.”

“The story I told you says it is not certain.”

I swallowed hard, and let Lindir go. I offered him a nod. “I can accept uncertainty. Thank you. You’re the best of friends, Lindir.”

He nodded back, offering an encouraging smile. “As you have been to me.”

I took a deep breath, trying to smile back. I managed a little one. “Want any wine? I didn’t have a chance to drink nearly as much as I thought I would, so I’ve got plenty.”

Lindir chuckled. “Thank you, no. I will be sparing of that for another day or two. It makes me unsteady on my feet, which are unsteady enough on their own merits for the moment. I can leave to you to your thoughts, or if you would rather have company, I can tell you about sorting Finlor’s trinkets.”

“I would like the company,” I confessed. “Lord Elrond said the Orc Spawn had gotten three groups mostly done.”

Lindir nodded. “We know which pieces are missing from those groups, as well. Legolas and his guardsmen are already on the hunt for those.”

“Good. Gandalf’s told me what I have to do to unmake the things, and I’ve had a look around the Woodland forges with Teth, so I’m ready to go to work as soon as Gandalf and Lord Elrond give me the word.”

We talked a little longer about the progress, and Lindir assured me that the Orc Spawn were taking precautions to protect themselves as they sorted out the trinkets. Everything they sorted went into a mithril box, so as the day went on, the influence of the pieces grew less. Teth in particular had a quick eye to pluck the right pieces out of the piles, a skill well honed during his centuries of mulling over import records looking for miniscule differences. All of them kept a sharp eye out for signs of fatigue or illness in themselves and each other, so that no one succumbed as Tauriel had. They hoped to make their way through the ones we already had by the end of the day tomorrow. As new ones came in, we would sort them directly into the boxes.

At length, Lindir was ready to rest, and went back to his suite. I let him go only with my deepest thanks. He’d been more than kind to offer me solace.

I shut the door after him. Míriel was rousing, and I would soon have her to focus on, rather than my disappointment. I told myself that I was no worse off than I had been before luncheon. In fact, I was a bit better off. I knew for certain that my father was an Elf, and I knew that a family that mixed Dwarves and Elves was new and unexpected.

I also knew that I would never disparage Lindir about his papers again. His papers had just kept me from putting on the biggest drunk of my life, and all for a story that – I hoped – didn’t apply.

I sent a quick thought to Aulë, wherever he was, if such beings listened to the likes of me. Whatever I needed to do to keep Tauriel from a life alone, I hoped he’d tell me what it was, in time for me to do something about it.

 

* * *

 

By the time I’d spent another hour in Finlor’s apartment, I was heartily sick of jewelry. It was my lot to oversee the piles of sapphires and aquamarines and peridots as the Orc Spawn toiled to sort the pieces into their groups. These gems were common fodder for Finlor, and before long, I saw blue and green sparkles even when I shut my eyes. At least our effort was well on its way.

Because Lindir still recovered from his wounds, we ensconced him on one of Finlor’s luxurious reading couches, where he read the ledger descriptions to us. The rest of us – Giriel, Rhiannel, Teth, and I – rummaged through the various piles to locate the pieces, and Teth put the piece in a numbered box. Lindir marked the piece we found with the box number in the ledger, and then we repeated the process.

Legolas personally delivered another six pieces later in the afternoon, which we noted as found and put in the correct box. That gave us two complete groups.

We had another twenty-eight groups to go.

In another hour, Lindir was tiring, so Teth helped him downstairs to rest, then hurried back up. We put in another couple of hours before we stood down. All of us were getting headaches, but I hoped it was more because of the focused concentration on minutiae rather than any insidious magic. I was hungry, too, and was surprised to see the sun waning through Finlor’s salon portal. We’d been hunched over jewelry for longer than I realized.

“We have five sets complete now,” Teth said, trying to encourage us as we left Finlor’s apartment behind. He hefted the mithril boxes containing the completed sets; he’d give those to Lord Elrond and Gandalf for safekeeping. “Our sorting will get faster as the piles of gems shrink, and as the missing ones are found, we will not have to sort them at all, merely put them in a box.”

“I expect we will have this in good hand soon enough,” Rhiannel agreed. “I am concerned about the smuggling, of course, and while there is little we can do about that, I hope it is weeded out quickly. We do not need another Finlor taking the original’s place.”

“I’m worried about Kíli,” Giriel said. “He’s the one who has to unmake all these things. We can’t help with melting the gold, but I wonder if he would show us how to take the gems out? There’s no magic in them, and if we can help him free the gems, wouldn’t that be better than him having to do them all himself?”

“I will ask him,” I said, heartened at anything that offered a way to reduce the time needed to unmake the trinkets. “We don’t have to worry about marring the pieces, as they’re all going to be melted down. And we won’t be wearing the pieces or handling them for long, so the danger seems small to me.”

“That would let Kíli concentrate on separating the various colors of gold,” Rhiannel said. “Some few of the settings I saw were made of multiple colors. I think I heard Kíli say that the different colors had to be melted separately so that the gold could be reused once it’s melted.”

We came to the main hall of the cavern, the center of which was blocked with a great tower of scaffolding. The gossip was that a replacement lamp to replace the one Gandalf had sent crashing to the floor was underway, and when it was ready, the scaffolding would be in place to allow the lamp to be hung. It would be a relief for the last physical damage of our fight with Finlor to be repaired, so the Woodland Realm could move past the tragedy and on to recovery.

We skirted the scaffolding and entered the hall to the guest suites. Teth went ahead to deliver the mithril boxes to Gandalf, and to check on Lindir. We would share supper with him if he were so inclined. Giriel and Rhiannel went through our sitting room to their room, and I eased the door open to my room, not knowing if Kíli was resting. But he was awake, on the floor with Míriel as they played with her toys.

“Hello, Kíli,” I greeted him with a smile. “Míriel, Mami is back. Did you miss me as much as I missed you?”

Míriel looked up at my greeting to give me a wide smile. “Mami!” She crawled to me and held her hands up, so I picked her up and gave her a hug. She giggled as I nuzzled her neck and hummed.

“You are a happy babe! Your Tada has played with you all afternoon, hasn’t he? How many times has he marched your animals across the rug for you? A hundred, at least!”

I spun around with Miri, laughing with her, expecting to hear Kíli’s laughter joining ours. But he was silent. When I found him, he was still sitting on the floor, gazing up at me with the saddest expression.

“Kíli, what is wrong? My _a’maelamin_ , you look so sad! What has happened?”

He looked at the floor, apparently at a loss for words.

I knelt beside him, put my hand on his shoulder, and leaned into him. Míriel crawled into his lap to pat his chest in comfort. “Kíli, please. What troubles you?”

A long sigh gusted out of him. As he put his arms around Míriel, he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I talked to Lord Elrond and Gandalf this afternoon, and...”

He told me what they had told him about how few of the Half-Elven had been offered the choice between life as Man or Elf. Nothing he said was a surprise. I had made my own forays through Imladris’s library when we had first come there, and I had long been reconciled to what might lie ahead. I stroked his hair.

“I know, Kíli. I have always known.”

“But I didn’t know! I didn’t think, I just – just fell in love with a vision from the Valar, and I never thought of the cost to you, and I hate myself for putting you at such a risk. I’m no better than this fucking cavern kingdom that suffocated you for six hundred years, only I’ll do it for a lot longer than that when I die and leave you alone! How can I live with that?”

“You have given me life, love, a child, the utmost joy, Kíli. If our time together does not last forever, it does not change those things. All it does is make our time together all the more precious. Nothing is certain, in any case. Every time either of us rides out with the Imladris guard, we run the risk of not coming back. An Orc’s arrow kills an Elf just as easily as it does a Dwarf – more easily, in fact. Nothing is ever certain.”

“Certain. Certain...” Kíli looked startled. “Oh! Lindir! I nearly forgot what he told me this afternoon. I saw you come in, and I just felt so... wretched that I nearly forgot what our bookworm told me.”

“What did he say, Kíli?”

“He told me that what Lord Elrond and Gandalf said might not apply to me, because that story is about Elves and Men. Dwarves are different. We’re not immortal, but we’re not exactly mortal, either. And I live longer than Men, anyway. So...”

I hadn’t known that about the mortality – or not – of Dwarves. “So we have time.”

He ventured a smile. “I’m greedy. I want more than time with you. I want forever with you.”

I put my arms around my husband. “No matter how much time we have together, _a’maelamin_ , don’t waste it worrying about how soon it will end. Savor each day of it as much as possible, and let tomorrow come in its own time.”

I felt him smile, and his ribs shook with soft laughter. “Valar, Tauriel. You sound like an oracle, except that I understand what you say. A real oracle is incomprehensible.”

“A real oracle is a myth. I am not a myth.”

He looked up at me, and if his smile was not as bright as usual, it was calm and affectionate. “No, you aren’t. You’re my most precious _amrâlimê_.”

When I kissed Kíli’s cheek, he leaned in to savor it, which squashed Míriel between us. She protested with a squawk, and waved her arms trying to get from between us. Laughing, we eased apart to let Míriel roll away. She crawled away to sit among her toys, shaking her head in disgust.

“She’s not a lump anymore,” Kíli shook his head.

“No, she is not,” I said. “She grows fast, and will be a babe for not much longer.”

Kíli hummed in agreement. “She really isn’t now, is she? She’s talking, she’s eating table food, she’s almost walking on her own.”

“So we have lost our babe,” I prompted.

As I hoped, Kíli looked at me with a startled expression. “But we haven’t lost her, Tauriel! She’s just growing up.”

I smiled. “Exactly, _amrâlimê_. I do not despair that Míriel is no longer a babe, because she is still something I cherish.”

His smile faltered. “But when – if I die, I won’t be something else for you to cherish. I’ll be gone.”

I had already wrestled with that, and had made my peace with it. “If that happens, Kíli, you will be memory, which I will savor each time I look into the stars. And if I choose at some point to die, too, then my memory will join yours, and perhaps we will be together again in that way.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You don’t know otherwise, either.”

“That uncertainty again, then.”

I nodded.

This time, Kíli’s exhale was a marshaling one, and he met my eyes straightly. “All right. I won’t waste our time with worry or regret or even hope. I’ll just do my best to savor every second of it.”

I kissed him again. “I will do the same.”

Across the carpet, Míriel pulled her blanket over her head, and giggled.


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Today we have a little conversation with friends, a little fluff, a little drama, and a start to dealing with Finlor's sinister legacy.
> 
> We also have a surprising - and welcome - change in the Woodland Realm. Even Thranduil notices, and surprises everyone in how he shows his appreciation. Miracles never cease!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've chosen to disagree with the movie canon about Thranduil's dragon fire scars. A blind eye would play havoc with the king's stellar abilities with his swords (i.e., no depth perception), so I kept his eye intact. The JRRT canon doesn't mention any scars, of course, but I still gave Thranduil a few, just to add street cred to his knowledge of dragons.
> 
>  
> 
> Translation Notes:
> 
> bagronk pushdug ob hola = stinking cesspool of money (i.e., a hell of a lot) (Orcish)

The next two days passed slowly, because everyone was determined to keep me away from Finlor’s trinkets. I didn’t know whether to be touched or worried. On the one hand, it was a rare pleasure to have so many friends concerned about my welfare. On the other, what did they know about dangers to my welfare that I didn’t?

I spent my time playing with Míriel so Tauriel could help with the sorting. I took her to the _Pand uin Gilith_ , where we savored the sun and the flowers. I took her to the stables, where she enjoyed seeing Trellennan and our other horses. They were well looked after, as their glossy coats and bright eyes attested. They were well fed, too, but Trellennan accepted a carrot from Míriel’s hand graciously, and we spent a pleasant hour talking with some of the Elvish grooms. I also went with Lindir down to the Woodland tailors, and found one who would make Míriel some new things. As active as she was, she was hard on clothes, especially leggings, so many of her things were the worse for wear. I wasn’t interested in fancy things for her, just sturdy clothes to play in that would wash well. My only indulgence was in the colors – black cherry, deep red, grape purple, and berry blue, all of which made Míriel’s dark hair and hazel eyes glow.

Tauriel did stand down occasionally from the sorting, mostly because the other Orc Spawn wanted to make sure the nasty things didn’t sap her too much. She was as happy as I was to see Míriel, so I escaped to the Woodland guard’s practice grounds to wear myself out a bit. Some of the Imladris guards were there, too, and I joined them in a few practice bouts. They’d made several friends in the Woodland guard, so it was a warrior’s gathering. I’d missed that part of Imladris more than I’d realized.

I sought out Tethrandil, just to lay out the business about what Lord Elrond and Lindir had told me. My friend wasn’t a scholar, and he wasn’t an eminent lord, but he’d lived a long time, and he had a good head on his shoulders. He was also a good listener, and offered wise advice about much more than protocol. He agreed with Lindir that my Dwarvish heritage made any speculation about my future just that – speculation.

“In a way, Kíli,” Teth said, setting his wine glass on the table and clasping his hands around one knee, “this is freeing, as you are not bound to believe in one inevitability or another.”

I hummed into my glass, conceding the truth of that. “I’m free to make up my own tale, you mean?”

“If it suits you,” Teth shrugged. “If I were you, though, I would not make up a tale, because it is not likely to have any similarity to whatever Aulë and Manwë plan. I would, however, consider this.”

I downed the rest of my glass and cast a look at him. “What?”

He smiled as he sipped his wine. “If I were the product of a pairing that was thought to be impossible, I would take that as a sign that two of the Valar blessed me from the start. Your very presence is proof that they consider you favorably.”

My lips curved up. “That’s a good way to look at it, isn’t it? It doesn’t make any false promises about what may come, but it doesn’t lay out a terrible doom, either. And it gives me a pair of guardians, or at least some friendly inclinations. That’s a gift, Teth.”

My friend held up his glass to me. “It is my pleasure.”

It struck me that I was already blessed with many friendly inclinations, from all of my Orc Spawn friends, a wizard, a high lord, many fellow guardsmen, and of course my fierce Elf warrior maid. I was a rich Dwarf.

The last thing I did to get ready for the impending effort to unmake Finlor’s trinkets was to talk with Legolas about what I’d need at the forge. Gandalf’s description had given me a sense of the effort I’d make, so I explained that to the prince. Legolas introduced me to master smith Wandril, explained to him what I needed, and asked him to provide any help that I needed. Wandril oversaw a skilled and well-equipped shop, and as the physical process to unmake the trinkets wasn’t unusual, he’d have everything I needed in good time. All we lacked were the last of the trinkets.

“We’ve sorted everything so far into the groups,” Tauriel said, as we got ready for supper. I’d just come out of the bathing tub with Míriel, as we’d gone to see the horses again this afternoon, and even had a little jog about the exercise ring with Trellennan. I’d missed riding, and had enjoyed our circles around and around the ring. “There are just over thirty of them, with anything from eight to eighteen pieces in each group. Do you know some folk had two of them? Two maids even had three.”

I harrumphed. “Teth told me Finlor charged a _bagronk pushdug ob hola_ for the things. Didn’t those two maids have the wits to think about paying so much the first time, not to mention the next two?”

Tauriel shook her head as she sorted through the new clothes I’d gotten Míriel. “Hence the truth of the epithet, ‘flitter-wit.’ There are no wits about it.”

“Truth.”

“These are the nicest clothes, Kíli,” Tauriel said, guiding Míriel’s arm into one of her new tunics. “They fit well, but are big enough that they should last her a little while.”

I snickered. “The tailor had his work cut out for him trying to measure our little jewel. Miri kept trying to play with the pincushion. It took three of us – his wife and me to hold Míriel, and him to measure.”

“The three of you did well – didn’t they, Míriel? How elegant you look in your new blue tunic!”

“Gah!” was Míriel’s pronouncement, delivered with a smile that said that she was well aware of how cute she was.

“And look at this,” I brought out Troli’s doll. “He had a bit of the blue left over, so Troli’s doll has a new dress, too.”

“Just in time,” Tauriel grinned, holding the doll out to Míriel. Our daughter cooed happily, grabbed for her favorite friend, and promptly set to a vigorous wrestling match on the bed.

“Neither of them will look elegant for long,” I shook my head. “At least no one will care whether her hair is neatly combed or not.”

“They won’t,” Tauriel agreed, “even if we are having supper in the king’s apartments.”

I looked up at Tauriel. “We are?”

Tauriel nodded. “We are. We are not to dress in anything ornate, but I expect the king will tell us that Legolas has retrieved the last of the trinkets, and that tomorrow we can begin to unmake them.”

I exhaled. “About _skator-u_ time.”

“Indeed.”

I looked in the wardrobe. “Just tunic and trews, then?”

“Just so.”

I found clean things and dressed quickly. Tauriel was no slower, so we were soon able to gather Míriel and her toys and meet the rest of the Orc Spawn in the sitting room. We collected Lord Elrond and Lindir next, then Gandalf, and proceeded as a group to the king’s apartment, where King Thranduil and Legolas awaited us.

The mood was jovial and comfortable. We had worked often enough with the king and the prince that there was little formality between us now, and I was more or less reconciled to the king’s assassination attempt two years ago. I’d shown him the mistake of that, and Lord Elrond’s approach to things, even matters of state, had calmed much of his prickliness. When King Thranduil smiled at me in welcome, then, I almost believed him.

Regardless of what I thought about the king, my opinion of his larder continued to be high. Supper was wonderful, even the prawns. Given the friendliness between Woodland and Imladris folk now, we related the tale of our crossing over the Enchanted River and the huge cousins of the small buffet table tidbits that we’d had to face. Míriel wrinkled her nose at the smell and refused to try them. Despite her earlier vow never to eat another prawn, Giriel thought they smelled delicious, and so got her just revenge on the big creatures by eating a plateful of the small ones.

Once the initial rush to the food was over, King Thranduil announced that Legolas had collected the last of Finlor’s trinkets just before supper. That brought cheers and applause from all of us. Lord Elrond and Gandalf were particularly jubilant.

“The change in the atmosphere is noticeable,” the high lord commented, taking a deep breath. “It feels calmer by far, and much less unsettled.”

Legolas’s smile was spontaneous, and not as carefully considered as was typical of him. “It does, Ada. Do you feel it? The cavern seems lighter than it has in many decades.”

The king’s expression was an interesting mix of emotions. He was a subtle fellow, full of nuances and memories and motivations I was too young to understand. But he had the faint air of someone who’d been let out of isolation, or a stuffy room, and smelled the outdoors again. He cast an unforced smile back at his son.

“So it does, Legolas. I had not understood the undercurrent of Finlor’s trinkets until their influence was contained. Now that it is gone, I realize how pervasive it was, and how evil a pall it cast over our realm. We still must unmake the trinkets, and it will be no small thing to do so. But the change in the air is so much improved that I want to recognize it.” He offered a deep bow to Lord Elrond and to Gandalf. “I am grateful to you both for ridding my kingdom of these insidious things. I and my folk are already much the better for it.”

“It was my pleasure, Thranduil.”

Gandalf looked smug, but he bowed back gracefully. “Of course.”

Surprisingly, the king offered me a bow fully as deep as the ones he’d offered my betters. “I am grateful to you, Kíli, but not only because you saved my life from Finlor. You also have offered me honesty and directness when I had not earned it. I am sorry for ordering your assassination, and am grateful to your wife for stopping it. When we sit down to make the treaty between your folk and mine, I will repay your honesty and directness with my own.”

My jaw almost dropped, but I managed not to make a fool of myself by offering my own deep bow. “I appreciate that, King Thranduil. Thank you. I’m eager to hammer out the treaty with you, just as soon as we dispense with trinkets and a certain poisoned necklace.”

The king’s smile revealed that he realized how surprised I’d been, and was able to appreciate the humor in it. Then he moved on to Teth.

“I am grateful to you, Tethrandil, for fighting beside me, despite your hurts, and for your steady advice.”

“I am greatly honored, my lord and will remember wielding Icicle as the privilege it was.”

“Rhiannel and Giriel, thank you for seeing to Needle, and for defending our combined folk so diligently. Rhiannel, I am also grateful for your thoughtful consideration as we tried to make sense of Finlor’s trinkets. Your impersonation of a flitter-wit, Giriel, was particularly inspired to help us understand Finlor’s madness. Too, my son appreciates the attention you brought to the flitter-wits’... tiresomeness.”

Giriel laughed as she offered her own graceful bow to the king, and another to Legolas. “Then I am well rewarded, my lord. Learned conversation is an apt way to celebrate the clearer air.”

“I am happy to help,” was Rhiannel’s simple response.

“Lindir, I owe you many thanks for your deep knowledge and insight. In fact, you, Rhiannel, and Tethrandil are a formidable team, given the wide breadth of your knowledge and how easily you work together. I thank you deeply.”

Our bookish Lindir blushed, but he bowed back gravely. “My lord, you honor me.”

The king came to Tauriel last. Despite all his pretty words of gratitude, I tensed. It still rankled how he’d addressed my wife so harshly when we’d first arrived. But he offered Tauriel the same deep bow he’d offered the rest of us.

“Tauriel, I am grateful to you for many things. For leading Lord Elrond and his folk so well to reach my kingdom. For bearing the brunt of my ill-advised banishment. For serving the high lord of Imladris with the same devotion that you served me for so many centuries. I am proud to see you so well regarded in his realm, and regret that you are no longer part of mine. Know that you will ever be welcome here.”

Tauriel bowed as best she could with Míriel in her arms. “Thank you, my lord.”

I thought that’d be the end of it, but King Thranduil had one more surprise. He held his hand out to Míriel, and our bairn held hers out to him easily. He took her a bit awkwardly, but perhaps memories of some hundreds of years ago allowed him to shift her to a better position.

“I am grateful to you, too, little Míriel. It was good to recall the brightness of a babe again.”

“Thran,” Míriel patted the king’s arm and stared into his eyes with open curiosity. She wound her fists into handfuls of that long, white hair, and –

“He is _King_ Thran,” Tauriel said smoothly, quickly taking Míriel’s hands before she could give any experimental pulls. “And you do _not_ pull his hair.”

“Ah,” said the king with a smirk. “I had forgotten that. You are like my son, then, Míriel. He also found it fascinating to pull hair.”

“Ada,” Legolas muttered under his breath in embarrassment, drawing my snicker as I took Míriel back while Tauriel unwound her fingers from King Thranduil’s hair. “That was a long time ago.”

“Parents never think their bairns grow up, Legolas,” I chuckled. “You might get taller, but you’re always the little one.”

“So I have found,” the prince gave me a commiserating smirk, when his father turned a benevolently paternal look on us. “Come, let us make our escape, and find Míriel a cake.”

That met with laughter and my hearty agreement, and as we sampled the cakes, the conversation turned to tomorrow’s effort. My heart raced in anticipation. At last, we were ready to unmake Finlor’s nasty baubles!

“About that, Kíli,” Giriel spoke up, swallowing another prawn. “If you think it would speed the work, you could teach the Orc Spawn how to remove the gems, and then you could concentrate on separating the various golds from the settings. That assumes, of course, that having a lot of inexpert guardsmen prying the gems out doesn’t make more work for you.”

“Tauriel said that you’d suggested that, and I thought about it. It would speed the work for someone else to do the simpler ones, such as the ones that merely need a few prongs bent back to release the gem. The ones that require more than prying, though, I want to be careful about. I don’t want anyone at risk of accidentally puncturing the little chamber with the dragon’s blood. King Thranduil, what is the risk if that happens?”

The king swallowed his mouthful of roll and turned a sober expression on me. “All dragon’s blood is acid, Kíli. Blood from a young one causes less damage than a sunburn. But the acidity increases with age, whether within a living dragon or within a flagon. Gandalf and I agreed that Finlor’s collection is now quite dangerous, for it was taken at least twelve centuries ago. So we confirmed with a small sample from Finlor’s flagons – it will eat through all but glass, gold, mithril, and gemstones. The chambers in the trinkets are so small that that we can avoid contaminating the worktop with a suede cloth that can be quickly taken up and burned if the blood spills. If the blood touches a gemstone, it’s merely a question of heating the gem until the blood burns away. But if it touches skin, it will eat through flesh and bone unless the wounds are quickly sluiced with water. I saw many such wounds when I fought beside my father against invading dragons long ago.”

The king edged aside the top of his tunic to reveal part of a scar below his collarbone. It looked like a splatter of paint across his chest, and the skin was slightly concave where the acidic blood had eaten into the muscle. It had been a deep wound, then, and taken a long time to heal, even for an Elf. Lindir was the only one of us who didn’t serve on the guard; he wasn’t used to such sights, so he grimaced.

“A very old dragon at the peak of his powers caused this burn. I was fortunate that this fight was in winter, near a frozen lake. I fell into the water when the dragon fell, which likely saved my life,” the king explained.

“That was a lucky break,” I commented. “The cold likely helped to stop the bleeding, too.”

King Thranduil nodded as he sat back. “So it did. I show you this only to impress upon you how careful you must be to keep it from touching your skin.”

I leaned forward to put my elbows on my knees. “It’ll take longer, but I’d rather take out all the gems myself than put anyone at risk of the blood.”

“There are over four hundred of the things, Kíli,” Giriel argued. “If there are some pieces that need only a small bend here and there to free the gems, then I can do that. It isn’t up to you to bear all of the risk.”

“I am willing to help with that, too,” Teth said. “My age puts me at less risk than the rest of you, so show me what needs to be done, and I will.”

“So will I,” said Rhiannel.

“And I,” Lindir added.

“We have several volunteers, then,” Lord Elrond said. “Let us consider how best to approach removing the gems that makes the most of our volunteers, and allows Kíli to concentrate on the work that is the most expert.”

After some discussion, we had our plan. We would work in the Mirkwood forge because it would be away from most of the kingdom, had plenty of space for us, and allowed us to have a lot of water on hand in case something went awry. Once at the forge, we’d work on the trinkets one group at a time to remove the gems. I’d look at each piece, decide which ones were safe enough for others to remove their gems, and which ones I needed to attend to. Once the gems were out, we’d sort the gold and gems by color – the gold into mithril boxes, and the gems into other containers. If a setting were made of multiple colors of gold, I’d separate it into the various colors. Teth and Lindir would keep the boxes of gems and gold organized. The gems would go to the king to do with as he pleased, and the gold would go to the forge. Gandalf, Lord Elrond, and Teth would attend me at the forge, as I needed.

“We will begin tomorrow morn, then,” Lord Elrond said, looking at all of us in turn. “Rest well tonight. Kíli will lead us, and the rest of us will be at his disposal. I am less interested in us unmaking all of the pieces in a single sitting than I am in proceeding safely, Kíli. So if at any point you consider it wise for us to pause in our efforts, I charge you to call a halt.”

I nodded. “I will, my Lord Elrond.”

No one had anything more to add to our discussion, so we soon dispersed to rest for the night.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Tauriel asked me, as we prepared for our rest.

I had helped Míriel out of her new tunic, and was trying to dress her in her resting gown, but our bairn was not yet ready to rest. She laughingly pushed my hand away as I tried to put her arm in the sleeve. “No. I don’t expect taking out a few gems – all right, a lot of gems – to call for a raft of precision, and so far, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of danger for me. But Finlor was a rat bastard, so I’ll be on my toes, anyway.”

“I cannot believe the change in the king,” Tauriel mused, smiling at my attempts to dress our bairn. “And to make such a great lot of public apologies... I have not seen him ever do that before.”

“Go ahead, then, silly bairn. Wrestle with Troli’s doll,” I snorted, letting Míriel roll away from me on the bed. I wiggled her doll at her, and when she burbled and reached for it, I flopped it atop her head. She set to her wrestling with satisfaction. “It stunned me, as I’m sure everyone knew. I thought my teeth would fall out.”

Chuckling, Tauriel came up behind me and rested her hands on my shoulders. As I put my hands atop hers, she said, “You recovered very well, and you were gracious to focus on completing our work on Finlor’s menace before beginning your treaty. With Lord Elrond and Gandalf beside you, both of whom the king owes so much, you will get a fair treaty.”

“I hope so. The Dwarves of Khazad-dûm were said to have built the road originally, so they could travel back and forth to the Iron Hills. There are supposed to be marshes on the eastern end, so we’ll have to take a jog north through a bit of the forest, but we still won’t come near here. At any rate, my point is that Dwarves originally built the road, so King Thranduil can’t claim the Blue Mountain Dwarves are trying to infringe on an Elvish roadway.”

“Truth,” Tauriel murmured. Her hands pressed down on my shoulders, urging me to sit on the edge of the bed. She kneeled behind me and scrubbed her fingers through my mane most deliciously. “Now, _a’maelamin_ , you face a most important day tomorrow, and must get plenty of rest tonight. Let me see what I can do to help you to relax.”

Those long, elegant, Elvish fingers found every sensitive point up and down my spine, and before long they had me purring like some large cat. If she’d tried, she could have had me flat on my back begging her to rub my belly, or any other part suited her fancy. But Míriel still tussled with her doll, and so I contented myself by shutting my eyes and thinking of nothing but the pleasure Tauriel’s expert fingers brought me. Everything else receded into a dim blur.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” her soft voice whispered as her hands slid away. I pried my eyes open to see Míriel beside me, Troli’s doll abandoned as her need for restoration entranced her. Tauriel gathered her up and put her in her cradle with blanket and doll. Our bairn looked so intent on her toes that Tauriel didn’t bother with her resting gown, but tucked her blanket around her, drawing Míriel’s soft sigh. I groped for my tunic laces, and managed to get them loose enough to pull the thing over my head. Boots came next, then trews and smalls. I managed to crawl up to the pillow, but sprawled atop it without elegance. Tauriel’s chuckle was indulgent as she slipped down beside me. As she arranged the hair out of my face, I opened my eyes to find her on her side next to me, smiling.

For a second, the very otherworldly perfection of her pearly, ethereal skin, deep red hair, and glowing emerald eyes stabbed me with guilt, because I was not immortal. But in the next second, I shoved that aside. There _was_ something more between us, because we’d had a child, because I was a child of just as unlikely a pairing as Míriel was. I wouldn’t ruin the present by worrying about the future.

I admit that I was easily distracted from worry, because Tauriel was as naked as I was, and just one look at her body beckoning to mine made anything else impossible to think about. I rolled over, or maybe she pulled me to her. In any case, we met each other eagerly. How sweet it was to taste her lips, to suckle her, to slide inside her, to be gloved in her warmth. How sweet it was for her to pull me deeply into her, to tighten around me, to bite my lips and shoulders and everything else she could reach. When she wound her legs around me, twined one hand in my hair and grabbed my buttock with the other, and then pulled me into a kiss that had no end, how could I not be overwhelmed? Everything exploded into fireworks for both of us as we sailed far, far, far over the moon, never to come down again.

It took some moments, but eventually, we did come down again to find ourselves in a tangle of limbs and disordered linens. The scent of our indulgence was a sweet reminder of our passion, and I held Tauriel to me, unwilling to lose the feel of her body against mine. She put her head on my shoulder, her arm across my chest, and her leg over one of mine, molding the rest of her to my side. I stroked her back with long, slow strokes.

“How do you expect me to sleep after that?” I rumbled, smiling. “Such passion from a maid deserves proper thanks.”

Tauriel chuckled. “I spoke only of relaxation, _a’maelamin_. Not sleep.”

I hummed in anticipation. “So you did. I am very relaxed. But not too much so.”

“No?”

I shifted us so that I was on my side, with Tauriel’s back against my chest. I snaked one arm underneath her so I could stroke her breast. “No. I’m still eager to thank my fiery maid for favoring me so well.”

I eased her leg up and over behind mine, allowing my fingers to easily reach her most sensitive points. When teasing her teased my cock into rising again, I slid into her from behind as I found tempting uses for my fingers and lips. When I’d goaded us both past teasing, I rolled atop her back, wrapped my arms around her hips, and finished us in seconds. This time, we were so relaxed that neither of us had the energy to move. That suited me. I was still savoring the last seconds of being cocooned in the core of Tauriel’s warmth. I coaxed out the last tendrils of pleasure, moving oh, so slightly in and out. It was so consuming that I shut my eyes, rumbling low in my throat.

“What, do you admire the view?”

I grinned. “It’s such a view that I’ve got my eyes shut.”

“Whatever for?”

Snickering, I bent over her, rubbing my chest against her back and doing my best to stay within her. “Because looking at you so deliciously impaled on my cock is one of my favorite views, _amrâlimê_ , and if I savor it too long, I’ll want to impale you all over again.”

Her laugh was throaty, hardly Elvish. “Spoken like a Dwarf."

I was still grinning. “The Dwarf you love.”

“Yes, I do. And I am the Elf that you love, and between the two of us, we generate a passion greater than both folk.”

My cock was finally spent, and I eased from behind Tauriel to lie beside her. As she turned towards me, I stroked her cheek, and drew her hand up to my lips to kiss. “You are my most fiery Elf warrior maid, _amrâlimê_.”

She tugged a lock of my hair with a mischievous grin. “You are my fiery Dwarf warrior, _a’maelamin_. You are also my cheeky, irreverent, irrepressible, and lusty Dwarf, and I am the most fortunate of maids.”

She said it firmly, with love and affection glowing in her eyes. She said it with such conviction that I put aside all worry about what would come after today. I would think only of what bliss it was when we enfolded each other in our arms, and savored the moment together.

 

* * *

 

When early morn came, I was as focused as a warrior about to go into battle. Yes, I had my usual warm smiles for Míriel and Tauriel, and I was not above preening for my wife when I rose naked from bed and came to kiss her as she suckled Míriel on the reading couch. But most of my thoughts were on Finlor’s trinkets, and bringing about the end of them.

I didn’t bother to dress in anything worthy of guests, just my roughest traveling tunic, heavy breeches, and work boots. A table full of food waited for us in our sitting room, and I worked through porridge, salted pork, tea, and eggs steadily. The rest of the Orc Spawn came in one by one, and so did Lindir. They’d followed my advice to dress in rough clothes, and Giriel had brought her thinnest riding gloves in case they would help to shield her hands. Even Tauriel was dressed similarly, even though she’d spend most of the time in our suite seeing to Míriel. I already knew she was susceptible to magical things, and so wanted her well away from the gold when I removed the gems. But there were surely unknown things ahead of us, and so Tauriel had prepared herself just as she did when we rode out with the guard in Imladris, in case she was needed.

Once I’d eaten, Lindir slipped out to alert Lord Elrond and Gandalf, and we headed to the forge en masse. Tauriel came with Míriel to survey the place, in case she was needed, and Legolas had arrived ahead of us to see to preliminaries. The provision basket was in place, full of stuffed buns and eggs and other things we could eat easily when needed. The workbenches were cleared, and here came Lord Elrond and Gandalf with the mithril boxes. Teth helped them arrange the filled boxes on one of the workbenches, along with a few empty ones to hold the settings once the gems were removed. Other small wooden boxes were ready to hold the gems.

King Thranduil came just as we were about to start. He said nothing other than to wish us luck, then stood back with Lord Elrond and Gandalf.

I settled onto my stool in before the workbench. Teth put the first box in front of me. As Teth, Lindir, Rhiannel, Legolas, and Giriel gathered around me, I opened the box, and took out the first ring.

“All right, then. Lindir notes which one we’re about to work on. Setting is white gold; gem’s an amethyst just held in prongs. Got it, Lindir?”

“I do.”

I flipped the ring over to point to the tiny chamber on the back. “That holds the dragon’s blood.” I flipped the ring right side up again and pointed to a pair of the prongs, then took up the right tool. “Pliers. Bend the prongs back carefully, and the gem comes out. Gandalf or Lord Elrond brings the right box for the gold setting, Teth gets the gem, and you’re done.”

I suited action to explanation. Lindir marked the ledger, Lord Elrond proffered the gold box for me to deposit the setting, Teth recorded the amethyst and put it in its box, and the first trinket was apart.

We repeated the process with the next several pieces, most of which the Orc Spawn and Legolas could handle carefully. I went through those first before I set to a more complicated cabochon with both yellow and green gold. I took pains to cut the green leaves free from the yellow band, and carefully snipped away enough of the gold to free the stone. Lindir made our notes, Gandalf had the gold boxes for the bits of setting, Teth took the gem, and we were on to the next ones.

It took fifteen minutes to get through the first small group, but my helpers were learning the twist I used to bend the prongs. I hovered over them to watch – better they be too ginger and leave the thing to me, than risk burning themselves with the dragon’s blood.

As we went through the boxes, our progress improved. Giriel and Rhiannel learned quickly how to unseat the gems, and I didn’t hover so much. We hit a box with more complex pieces than not, so we risked working on two boxes at once just to speed things up.

“Oh, Valar!” Rhiannel hissed. “I breached the chamber!”

“Let it drop!” I said, grabbing the water bucket beside me and scrambling to Rhiannel’s side as the ring went bouncing over the floor. “Did it touch you?”

“No,” Rhiannel replied, looking disgusted. “The setting slipped under my hand. I felt the gold back crumple.”

“I have it,” Lindir said, kneeling on the floor. He had the setting carefully caught in a pair of pliers, holding it well away from him as he turned it this way and that in the light. “The chamber is cracked, but I do not see any liquid. What color is dragon’s blood?”

“It is a very deep amber,” King Thranduil replied, “barely translucent, like honey.”

Lindir shook his head. “I do not think it leaked out.”

The king took Lindir’s pliers with the setting carefully, and brought it to the workbench. “I think Lindir is right, Kíli. I see no breach, either.”

“Agreed. The stone’s out, so I think we can put it in the gold box as it is.”

Gandalf brought the proper box, the king laid the setting carefully inside, and we went on.

It took a few moments for everyone’s nerves to calm after Rhiannel’s scare, but we soon brought ourselves back to task. The king left to hold his morning court, but Legolas stayed to help unseat the gems, and Gandalf and Lord Elrond stayed to keep watch over us. We made good progress with four of us to work on the settings, Teth to collect the gems, and Lindir to keep track of our progress, so much that I was the slow point, as we found more and more pieces that called for more than a simple bending of prongs. Despite his one slip, Rhiannel had a steady hand, so I set him to nipping the disparate golds apart on the settings where his tools wouldn’t come close to the little chambers. By the time luncheon came, we were working on our tenth box of the pieces. But we weren’t able to relax just yet. This time, it was Giriel who gave us pause.

“What is it, _a’maelamin_?” Rhiannel asked the maid.

“What happened?” I asked immediately, looking around.

“She grimaced,” my comrade said. “Does your head ache, Giriel?”

“I am not sure,” she said, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “It was a sudden blurry feeling. An apprehension.”

Gandalf and Elrond came to her. “Describe exactly what you were doing,” the high lord asked.

“I put the last setting I worked on in the mithril box, my lord. It was a yellow gold setting. I haven’t had many of those.”

Gandalf fetched the box and stood before her. “I will open it. See if the feeling returns.”

She nodded at once. “It does.”

Gandalf closed the box quickly. “We have more yellow gold settings than any other color. I would guess that the effect of the ring magic compounds as more settings are put in the box.”

“The sense of blurring could be due to Finlor’s death,” Lord Elrond mused. “The gold has no focus for the attraction it tries to induce.”

“Let us start a new box for the yellow gold, then,” was Gandalf’s proposal.

Teth brought a new box. “We have several empty ones, now that we’ve cleared a few of the groups. So perhaps we should put no more than thirty of the settings in a box?”

“There are perhaps fifty in that box, so thirty seems a safer number,” Lord Elrond agreed.

Teth found a bit of paper, pen, and ink. “I will start a count of each kind, then, so we know when to start a new box.”

We continued on until we were through the box we’d been working on, and made sure that all of the boxes of gold were safely closed.

“Everyone well?” I asked. I was relieved when all nodded. “Good. Lindir, Teth, do you have a count of the gems we’ve removed so far?”

Lindir held up Finlor’s ledger. “I’ve marked the pieces we’ve done, and made a list of the gems by type, cut, and size.”

“Legolas, it seems prudent for you to take possession of the gems we’ve collected so far now, instead of waiting until we’re through all of them.”

“I will do so,” the blond Elf agreed. While he, Teth, and Lindir bent over Lindir’s careful lists, the rest of us rose from our stools for a welcome stretch.

After a quick lunch across the forge, we were back at it. We had no more scares during the afternoon, and by supper we had worked our way through twenty-three of the thirty-two boxes. All of us agreed that we wanted to be done with this part sooner rather than later, so after supper we were back at it. Finally, at well after midnight, we finished the last nine boxes.

“Oh, Valar, I have a stiff back!” Giriel winced, straightening on her stool. “I am glad I don’t make my living as a jeweler. Too hard on the backbone!”

“You were the best helper, though.” I took her example and stretched until my spine cracked. “All of you were. If there were an inn nearby, I’d stand all of you an ale.”

“No inn, and no ale,” Rhiannel shrugged. “But no matter. We will make do with a glass of wine.”

“Or two or three,” Giriel grinned. “At least.”

“First things first, though,” I said. “Where are the gems? They go to Legolas.”

“I have them,” the blond Elf held up the boxes.

“I’ve got the ledger,” Lindir said, holding the book firmly under his arm.

“I’ve got the tallies,” Teth shuffled the sheets into a sheaf.

“And Lord Elrond and I have the boxes of gold,” Gandalf finished. He had eight boxes, and so did the high lord. “So let us be off.”

We returned to our suite slowly, grateful after so much sitting to stretch stiff limbs and focus on nothing but putting one foot in front of the other. As we came into the sitting room, Tauriel came out of our room where she had been watching Míriel in her contemplation. My wife came to my side, bending to brush a kiss on my lips.

“You are finished, then, _amrâlimê_?”

I nodded as I took the glass of wine Rhiannel passed me. “Legolas has all the gems. Lord Elrond and Gandalf have all the gold. Tomorrow, I’ll melt the gold, and Finlor’s nasty little trinkets will be no more.”

“A toast to that, then,” Gandalf held up his glass. “To a task well started, and soon to be well ended.”

That met an enthusiastic response, but the tureen of hot soup Tauriel had had sent up from the kitchens met an even greater one. I fell upon the bowlful that Tauriel put in my hands, slurping it down eagerly. More bowls went around, and conversation stopped as we indulged.

“I hadn’t realized how hungry I was,” Lindir said as he ladled out another bowlful for himself. “Soup has not tasted so good in a long time.”

“It hasn’t,” Giriel agreed in surprise, drawing my laughter. “Oh, look! Rolls! Now I know why smiths are always hungry, Kíli. Even removing gems is hard, hungry work.”

I helped myself from the basket of rolls after Giriel, buttering one thickly and alternating bites of it with slurps of soup. Giriel was right; the long hours of work gave the soup better flavor. I’d started on my second roll when the door from the hall to our sitting room opened, and King Thranduil came in.

“Legolas sent word that you are done for the night,” the king said, after we bid him welcome.

“All the gems have been removed, and Legolas has them,” Lord Elrond confirmed. “After a well deserved night’s sleep, Kíli will set about the gold, with Mithrandir and me to second him.”

“That is welcome news,” the king smiled. “I have canceled tomorrow’s court so that I may be on hand.”

We chatted only briefly about the day’s events, for it was very late. Before long, I swallowed my last bite of seed cake and excused myself from my comrades.

“Best I find my blankets. I want all of my wits about me tomorrow, so we can see this thing finished.”

“Rest well,” my friends wished me, and I wished them the same.

Despite how tired as I was, I lay down beside Tauriel with a sense of excitement. Tomorrow, for the first time since I’d left Imladris, I’d take my place at the forge, where I’d undo a millennium’s worth of mischief with fire.


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. The Dwarf is in the building, and he's playing with fire! At last it's time for Kili to melt the gold from Finlor's trinkets. Here's hoping all goes well!

I was already in my smith’s reverie before I ever got down to the forge. I ate breakfast, and I packed a basket of snacks against distraction in the middle of melting Finlor’s gold, but whatever went down my gullet didn’t register, nor did what went in the basket. My thoughts were on the melt, on the fire, on the casting. I blessed Tauriel’s patience and love for understanding my preoccupation that had me walking around in a haze.

“Kíli,” Tauriel called, when I went to open the door to our sitting room. “Kíli, please, before you go?”

“Hmm?” I looked around, registered for the first time where I was, and how oblivious I’d been. “Oh! Valar, Tauriel. I’m sorry, _amrâlimê_. I’m –”

“Focused on the forge. I know, _a’maelamin_. I understand. I wanted only to wish you well, and caution you to take whatever steps you can to end the ring magic safely. Come back to me safely.”

I found a smile for her as I took her hands. “I will, my most precious warrior Elf maid. If necessary, I will take twice as long, just to keep me and Lord Elrond and Gandalf safe. I promise. Oh! I almost forgot!”

Tauriel’s hands tightened on mine, and her brow wrinkled in concern. “What, Kíli?”

I touched the marriage ring on my finger. “I can’t wear this to melt gold. Or our earrings, either. I promised you I’d never take them off, so you’ll have to do it for me.”

Her expression eased. She was more apprehensive about the melting than she’d let on, then. I pulled my hair back for her to get the rings out of my ears, and gave her my hand to ease the finger ring off.

“A wise precaution,” Tauriel agreed. “I prefer you to come back without burned ears or fingers. Or hair, either. Would you like me to braid yours out of the way for you?”

“I would. A nice, tight queue, straight down my back. If you braid my mane into it, it’ll stay there, away from the fire. I haven’t spent all these years growing it just to have it flop over my shoulder and get singed off.”

“You’ll have to take off your tunic, then.”

I looked her up and down. “You’re incorrigible. Always trying to strip a dark Dwarf of his clothes.”

“Always. So off with it, my dark Dwarf.”

I unlaced it, pulled it off over my head, and savored the touch of Tauriel’s deft hands as she gathered my hair into a long braid that reached nearly to my waist. It had never grown so fast before I met a fierce Elf maid, so it must be something about her, or in Elvish food, that teased even a Dwarf’s hair into lengthening. On any other day, thinking about how Tauriel teased other parts of me into lengthening would make us late for whatever we’d planned for the morn. Only the lure of the forge and the drive to end Finlor’s madness could distract me from those pleasures. Still, I let Tauriel know I appreciated her attentions. When she’d unwound one of my braid ties to fasten the queue off, I took her hands to kiss.

“When I come back, I’ll be fit only for the bathing tub. But after a good scrub, I’d love to honor the Elf maid who looks after me so well.”

“Hmm. With all day to think about that, I’ll come up with quite a list of honors you may pay me.”

I grinned. “Don’t tell me that, maid, or I’ll burn to a crisp before I ever get down to the forge.”

“Promise you won’t burn yourself to a crisp thinking of your own list, then.”

Chuckling, I drew her forehead to mine. “That’ll be a hard promise to keep. But I promise, anyway.”

Míriel decided she’d had enough of our mooning over each other, so crawled to us and stretched her arms up. I swooped her into my arms and pressed a loud kiss on her cheek, laughing when she tried to wriggle free.

“No, Tada, no! Miri kiss!”

She planted her lips against my cheek. She still didn’t quite have the kissing part right, but the face pressing and subsequent sloppy residue were perfect. I giggled, and hugged her tightly. “See to your Maamr, little jewel. Play nicely with your toys for her. Maybe Giriel will march your animals for you with Maamr, too.”

“Thran,” she said with finality.

“The king can’t play with you today, Míriel,” Tauriel shook her head. “He sent word last night after you went to sleep, Kíli, that he has a short morning court to hold before he attends you at the forge. Apparently some of the court has objected vigorously about the ‘theft,’ as they call it, of their trinkets.”

I snorted as I pulled my tunic back on. “I’d love to hear the king lambaste the lot of them. He wouldn’t even need the Black Speech to set them to rights. Though I’d be happy to teach him a few choice words against future use.”

Tauriel laughed. “Legolas would like you to teach him a few Dwarvish words, so that he knows when he’s being complimented, and when he’s being insulted.”

“ _Khazuduhl_ is spoken only among kin, so it’s not likely that he’ll hear any of that,” I shrugged. “And only riffraff Dwarvish princes who live in Imladris tend to use the Black Speech. But I’ll gladly tell him the Common Speech he’s likely to hear, and whether he should just smile and nod, or knock a few heads.”

“Fair enough,” Tauriel said, taking Míriel from me. “Now, commune deeply with the fire, _amrâlimê_ , and banish Finlor’s menaces. I will keep Míriel safe, and we will be here when you are done, however long it takes.”

Tauriel’s face was serene, and I was struck at what a gift she’d given me. She was so accomplished, so competent, so adept, yet throughout our sojourn here, she’d stepped into the shadows to support me as ambassador, as jeweler, as fighter, as smith, without resentment. The next time it was my turn to support her, I’d make sure to act as unselfishly as she did now. Impulsively, I drew her down to kiss her.

“You are the biggest blessing in my life, Tauriel. I’m honored to be your husband.”

She kissed me back with a smile that was tender, yet unsurprised at my impulse. “You are my treasure, too, Kíli. You go with my love.”

I backed to the door, opened it, and before I walked out, I put my hand to my heart and held it out to her, reminding her of what she held. She made the same gesture in return. It was time to head for the forge, and dispel a right lot of malice.

 

* * *

 

When the door shut behind Kíli, I swallowed. I found the toy Míriel asked me for, and I set her down with it to play.

Then I asked the Valar, Aulë especially, to look after my dark Dwarf.

 

* * *

 

I’d gotten used to being followed everywhere by at least one of the Imladris guardsmen, so today was no exception. Helmia herself was in attendance, so I supposed the day’s events were important to more than a dark Dwarf. I carried my basket of sustaining fare as we chatted on the way; she had a good supply of guardsman’s scuttlebutt to relate. Most of it was innocuous, but our guardsmen had noticed how the air had cleared over the last couple of days as we’d contained Finlor’s trinkets, even if they didn’t understand why. They took it as a result of the cancellation of court meals where so much malicious gossip tended to start. Helmia was usually presented the most serene face to outsiders, but to me she was more open, and she had little good to say about several regulars of the king’s court. There had been a fair number of solicitations, which hadn’t met with much favor from our guardsmen. Maybe our Elves were older and less interested in such things, or maybe they were wiser and understood social climbing better than the Woodland court expected. Whatever the reason, they’d been careful to be polite when they gently refused such dubious honors. I would have teased the maid more about it if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with the gold. Helmia accompanied me on a brief side visit before she delivered me to the forge in good humor, and bade me farewell as she returned to the guest suite to stand the rest of her duty.

Only Wandril, the master smith, was by the fire when I arrived. He’d been given permission to understand the nature of the task I was to undertake today, if not the magical significance of it. Every forge has the same main elements, but every forge has its idiosyncrasies, too, so I had already asked him for a thorough education on the ins and outs of this one.

The Woodland forge lay in the northwestern-most branch of the cavern, which put it uphill from most of the kingdom. Below it were King Thranduil’s grand throne room, the ceremonial halls, and the guest suites. Below those were the residences, and below those were the cellblocks, larders, storerooms, and barrel drop. The _Glawar-galad_ jaunted off to the northeast, almost at a right angle from the cellars, which put it in the northmost part of the cavern.

It was important to know where the forge lay in relation to the rest of the cavern, because the forge had a vent for the heat, ash, and fumes from the furnaces, and how the wind took those, especially the fumes, would play into working the gold. Part of why I’d been so preoccupied this morn had been because I’d thought about that vent, and what would happen when I sent a vapor of dragon’s blood steaming out of it. It was no solution to dissipate it from the trinkets in the fire of the furnace, only to poison the air around the cavern. How the shade of Finlor would laugh if I killed off the kingdom with the residue of his trinkets!

I’d asked Wandril previously about how the wind tended to blow outside the cavern. Unfortunately, the prevailing wind blew exactly as I expected – downhill, which meant any fumes from the forge blew right over the rest of the cavern. Most days, Wandril told me, this wasn’t an issue, as the wind tended to be brisk, and fumes tended to stay above the trees. But that might not be good enough to keep the vapor of dragon’s blood from the Woodland Elves.

King Thranduil had said that dragon’s blood was an acid. When thrown into a fire, many acids made a heavy, poisonous vapor. I assumed that dragon’s blood would probably do likewise, and fall to the ground when it came out of the vent. When I’d asked the king about how much dragon’s blood was likely to be contained in all of Finlor’s trinkets, he’d estimated that four hundred and thirteen tiny droplets might fill one of Bilbo’s biggest teacups. So putting all of Finlor’s trinkets on the fire meant I’d convert a cup of liquid acid into some amount of vapor. I had no idea of how much vapor that would make, hence the side trip I’d made with Helmia before I came to the forge. I wanted to talk to an alchemist to see if she could tell me how much vapor a cup of acid would make. I didn’t want to tell her exactly what I intended to vaporize, so I substituted the most dangerous acid I knew, oil of vitriol. It took a lot of figuring, but the alchemist’s eventual conclusion was that a cup of oil of vitriol would make a volume of vapor that was a bit more than would fill a box that was a foot and a half deep, by two and a half feet wide, by five feet long.

That was uncomfortably close to a Kíli-sized coffin.

Maybe that amount wasn’t much to send up the vent and into the air outside the cavern. But melting the trinkets in batches meant that the acid vapor would trickle into the air for several hours. Once the vapor was aloft, all anyone could do was avoid it, and wait for it to dissipate.

I needed to ask the king how dangerous he thought the vapor would be. If it was as bad as I expected – for everything Finlor had touched had been as bad as anyone expected, if not worse – then all I could think to do was to check the wind this morning, and if it blew true to form, ask King Thranduil to pull all of his folk inside the cavern and shut every entrance and door until I was done. If the king were kind, he’d also send riders out along the eastern roads and ask any travelers to hold for the day.

“Good morn, Wandril!” I heralded the master smith.

“Kíli! Good morn to you. You unseated all of the gems last night, I understand, and will begin on the gold settings today.”

“That’s right, sir. How’s the wind today?”

“Steady from the northwest, as is typical.”

“I expected as much. Blowing right downhill. Well, can’t be helped. It looks like everything’s ready.”

“Just as you specified.”

“Plenty of water, too?”

“Twice our usual.”

“Perfect. You run a well-ordered forge, sir. Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure.”

As Wandril went about preparing the forge, I heard footsteps behind me. Lord Elrond and Gandalf approached, with Lindir and Teth behind them. The three Elves bore the mithril boxes containing Finlor’s settings. Gandalf was in his usual grey robes, and he carried his staff. All of the Elves, though, were dressed in closefitting, tough working tunics and breeches, looking nothing like the regal creatures they were. If anything, they looked like grim guardsmen, even Lindir, as we exchanged hellos.

“I expected Lord Elrond and Gandalf, but not you two.”

“Teth and I are here to watch over our lord and Mithrandir, as well as you,” Lindir said simply. “We are the oldest, and the least susceptible to Finlor’s menace. So we thought it wise to attend.”

I nodded. “Good enough. They’ll watch over me, and you’ll watch over them, and we’ll get through this.”

“Are you ready to start, then, Kíli?” Gandalf asked.

“No,” I shook my head. “I should have said something last night, but was too tired to think of it. Make sure you lot take off any jewelry, and tie up your tunic laces. Metal gets hot, and dangling laces catch fire. Both will give you a nasty burn or worse. And Gandalf, your robes...”

“I am touched by your concern my boy, but I assure you that they will stay out of the fire. Anything else?”

“A big something else,” I replied, and explained about acidic dragon’s blood and a coffin-sized volume of poisonous vapors and forge vents and prevailing winds. “So before I even put the crucible on the fire, I want to ask King Thranduil if he has any wisdom about vapor of dragon’s blood. Finlor’s hurt enough folk as it is, without adding any more.”

“Thranduil will appreciate your caution,” Lord Elrond agreed. “I will take your questions to him now, before he begins his court. In truth, I think you offer him a definitive way to dispense with that court.”

Lord Elrond’s smile would not be a pleasant one for anyone guilty of wrongdoing to face. As that wasn’t me, I grinned back. “Have I? How?”

Lord Elrond shared my amusement. “I expect that very few owners of Finlor’s trinkets will press their protest when they find out that their rings and brooches contained poison. With the king’s usual deft phrasing, they might instead consider the ruthlessness of their one-time jeweler, who laced their baubles with something that could destroy their flesh in such a gruesome manner.”

My chuckle was nasty. “Might make a wonderful demonstration, that, if you still have Finlor’s flagons. Put a drop or two on a slab of bacon, and watch what impression that makes.”

“Indeed,” Lord Elrond replied without batting an eye. Behind him, Lindir made a face as he imagined what that might look like, but Teth smiled grimly. “Begin your preparations, by all means, Kíli. I will return as speedily as I can.”

I bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

The high lord swept off with purpose in his step, drawing my snicker. Lindir looked at me with curiosity. “Why do you laugh, Kíli?”

“I wager you that our Lord Elrond enjoys explaining this to the king. I further wager that Lord Elrond decides to make an appearance at the king’s court to watch the fun.”

Gandalf cracked a smile, but Teth’s grin was much wider. “That is no wager, Kíli, but a surety. I hope they call the guard to attend before King Thranduil reveals the danger to the court.”

“To quell the panic, you mean,” I replied, and got a nod in return. “Too bad we can’t sneak in to watch. I’ll have to get on with preparing for the melt instead.”

“Tell us how we may help,” Lindir asked.

“There’s not much to do, other than to put on one of the forging aprons. If all goes well, none of you will get close to the fire or the heat, but if something happens, you’ll want the aprons to keep from getting burned. As for the forge itself, Wandril’s got everything laid out for me already. But I thought of something else to ask you, Lindir. What about all that dragon’s blood in the flagons? We don’t have to heat that to get rid of it. What else could we do to get rid of it? Assuming we want to get rid of it?” I asked, looking at Gandalf.

“It is a provocative substance,” the wizard observed, seating himself on the edge of one of the workbenches. “My recommendation would be to dispose of it, assuming we have a safe way to do so.”

We all looked to Lindir, but he was already mulling the question. “This might be as simple as cooking,” he murmured.

That wasn’t what I’d expected to hear, by halves, and I blinked at him in confusion. “Cooking?”

“Perhaps not exactly cooking,” our bookworm amended hastily. “Baking, rather. And I am not exactly sure why I know this. But somewhere I heard rumor that mixing a common leavening into an acid cancels the acid’s bite. Yeast, perhaps?”

“Ah,” Tethrandil chimed in. “I have heard the same thing about leavening, but it’s not yeast. It’s soda. The substance that an army uses to make its bread.”

“What, the stuff Bilbo puts in his biscuits?” I asked. “That can calm an acid? How? You just mix the soda and the acid?”

“You put the soda in water in a glass basin or bottle, and then you add the acid a little at a time. It will take a lot of soda and water to calm an acid as virulent as dragon’s blood, though,” Teth replied.

“While we await the pleasure of the king,” Lindir replied with his usual enthusiasm for puzzles, “let us think about how to do this.”

We spent a while considering the problem while Wandril and I stoked the fire. By the time Lord Elrond returned with King Thranduil beside him, the coals were ready for the crucible. Both Elf lords looked smug.

I stood up. “Good morn, King Thranduil. Both of you look like the cat that cleared the house of the mice.”

“The simile is apt,” the king replied with satisfaction. His eyes gleamed with amusement, and Lord Elrond chuckled.

“I take that to mean that your court was successfully concluded,” Teth observed.

“Just so,” the king nodded. “The revelation of what Finlor’s trinkets contained was most enlightening for even the loudest protesters of the court, and required no discussion. I am, however, almost disappointed that we did not need to demonstrate the potency of dragon’s blood. Their gasps would have been fit payment for their whining.”

We all laughed in sympathy, but we came quickly to the question of the vapor of dragon’s blood. As expected, King Thranduil confirmed my expectation of the danger. In my turn, I explained about the wind direction and the danger to anyone downwind of the vent. So that meant we had to wait some more while the king sent word to close the doors to the cavern, and to send a contingent of guards to keep folk from coming up the road to the cavern until the danger was past. As soon as the guards were away and the doors were closed, we sent all of the Elvish smiths out of the forge. My helpers saw to their laces and hair and jewelry, donned their aprons, and moved back out of the way. I stripped my shirt, tied on my apron, and set the first crucible into the heart of the fire.

I’d decided to start with the pink gold first, because I had the least amount of it – no more than fifty of the rings had had pink gold settings, and a few more had had touches of the pink. While the crucible heated, I set out the small molds that would hold the melted gold once the dragon’s blood and ring magic had dissipated. King Thranduil had indicated that small ingots would be the most useful shape, so Wandril had provided those. I made sure they were to hand, then checked the fire. Yes, the crucible was well positioned, and thoroughly heated. I pulled on one of the Elves’ heavy forging gauntlets, dropped the first setting into the crucible, and motioned my apprentices to the bellows.

Lord Elrond and Gandalf took the first turn; as they fell into the rhythm I signaled, the fire burned hotter and brighter, until I had to take up a pair of forging goggles to see into the crucible. I signaled a faster pace to the bellows, but stayed watchful, for I didn’t know how the dragon’s blood would act when the gold melted. Acids tended to boil long before gold melted, so would the heat make the acid spew out when the weakest part of the gold melted? It was such a small amount, but acid fumes and flying bits of molten gold were dangerous in any quantity.

“All right, you lot, it’s about to melt!” I warned when the edges of the setting softened and the gold took on a distinctive orange color. The crucible sat in the center of a horseshoe of firebricks that kept the fire and heat concentrated while still leaving a space for me to move it in and out of the fire, so I quickly circled away from the open end of the horseshoe to reduce the chance of any splatter landing on me. By standing on my toes, I could just see the setting as it softened into a button of metal. There was a sudden flare as the dragon’s blood burned, and a slight sputter of gold, but it stayed confined in the crucible.

“All good so far,” I called. I took up another handful of settings. “Four this time!”

I repeated the careful watching, and again, nothing untoward seemed to happen. So I added ten more of the settings. This time, however, the result wasn’t so benign. It happened to Lindir first – a grimace of pain, a rub of the temples, and a frantic look – to be honest, it looked as if he’d been seized with a sudden urge to dash to the necessary. “Look to Lindir! I’ve got to keep my eyes on this, but see what’s wrong!”

My eyes stayed on the gold, but my ears strained to hear the conversation behind me over the roar of the fire. I heard only the rumble of voices, though, and it was only until the king ventured to my side that I learned anything.

“Lord Elrond says that the ring magic is coming unbound with the melting of the settings. Lindir is the youngest, and feels it most, but so do the rest of us. It is... a distressing feeling.”

“Does Gandalf feel it?”

“No.”

“Neither do I. With respect, my lord, get yourself and the rest of the Elves out of here. Protect yourselves.”

“You can do this with only Mithrandir?”

“I can do it alone, if I have to. It’s just a matter of keeping up the bellows to hold the temperature for an hour. Get Lindir away before he gets any sicker. I’ll handle this lot.”

The king didn’t argue, which I took as the mark of respect he meant it to be. I kept Lord Elrond at the bellows long enough for me to put all of the remaining pink gold into the crucible, then I took his place.

“Get yourself out of here,” I shouted over the roar of the flames. “Come back in an hour to see if the ring magic’s gone, but don’t come back before.”

Lord Elrond went. He helped Lindir away, and the king and Teth followed them out of the forge. When they had gone, I looked to Gandalf.

“All help is cheerfully accepted,” I said, “but I can handle the bellows alone when you get tired.”

“I appreciate that, Kíli, but I will stand my duty a while longer. It might be the only time my critics would be right to accuse me of blowing hot air.”

I laughed, and we applied ourselves to maintain the high, steady temperature to the gold that would melt it and dissipate the ring magic. I went into my smith’s reverie, checking the gold at times to stay aware of its progress. It seemed like only a few moments passed before Lord Elrond appeared before us.

“Is the magic gone?” Gandalf heralded, smiling when Lord Elrond nodded an emphatic yes. The high lord hurried back to the forge entrance to bring Lindir, Teth, and the king back, and when the quartet showed that they no longer felt the dissipating magic, I bade Gandalf to let up on the bellows.

“I’m about to pour the ingots,” I warned, and fetched the big clamps that would let me draw the crucible out of the fire. I caught the crucible with the first clamp to draw it out of the fire, then used the second clamp to secure and steady it. Moving quickly, I poured the molten pink gold into the small ingots until the crucible was empty.

Thirty small ingots of pink gold were cooling. At last, they were nothing other than what they seemed to be – precious metal, but without taint, without poison. The first part of Finlor’s legacy was undone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of you would have laughed to see me trying to sort out the logistics of converting drops of dragon's blood to volumes of liquid acid and then volumes of liquid acid into acid vapor, much less what kind of furnace I needed to melt magical gold. So here are my references:
> 
> The gold melting setup is very loosely based on the one used to make the crucible steel used in the revolutionary Viking Ulfberht swords.
> 
> You can neutralize some acids by mixing a weak solution of baking soda into water, and then pouring the acid into the mixture, but there is more to it than that. So don't try this at home!
> 
> I based dragon's blood on the properties of sulfuric acid, also known as oil of vitriol, so the proportion of liquid to vapor is reasonably accurate for that particular acid. I had to call on the engineer and budding chemist in the family to help me determine this part, so hats off to both of them for their help. They were very patient!
> 
> I loosely based the movement of dragon's blood vapor in air on descriptions of mustard gas used as a weapon in WWI, as well as sulfuric acid spills.
> 
> All in all, messing about with acids, whether real or imaginary, is quite dangerous, so don't do that at home, either! Leave that to Dwarves and wizards who know (sort of) what they're doing!


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. It's time to be done with Finlor's trinkets. Will the sinister alchemist have any more devilry up his fuligin sleeves to launch against our feisty Dwarf and his mates, even from the grave?
> 
> Read on to find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> rraf dahaut = I feel like shit (Orcish)

Rhiannel, Giriel, and I had intended to spend the morn with Míriel in the _Pand uin Gilith_ where we would enjoy the welcome sunlight and greenery, but just an hour after we arrived, Elves came to shoo us out of it. There was concern about vapors emanating from the forge, and not only were all garden visitors to leave, but the portals that let the sunlight in so gloriously were to be tightly covered so as not to let any of the vapors inside. For the same reason, we could not retreat to the _Glawar-galad_ , so we came back to the sitting room of our guest suite, as restless as children mewed inside on a rainy day. We settled to various pursuits – Míriel threw her squeaky ball at her toys to knock them down, I retrieved errant squeaky balls and toys, Rhiannel tried to read, and Giriel did handstands and other esoteric movements across the rug. When we tired of that, Giriel set to teaching me a popular dance of Imladris while Rhiannel wrestled Troli’s doll with Míriel. We were in the midst of that when Lindir and Teth came in. Both looked ill.

“What happened?” I demanded immediately, getting to my feet. “Valar, both of you are so pale! Is Kíli well? Lord Elrond and the king? Gandalf?”

Teth collapsed into a comfortable chair, and even our quiet Lindir dropped heavily to the reading couch.

“Do not worry, _osellë_. Kíli and Gandalf are well,” Teth assured me, rubbing his temples.

“Our lord, the king, and us... we are not so well,” Lindir admitted. “Kíli has begun to melt the smallest batch of gold – the pink. When he started to melt several of the settings, all of the Elves felt a nervous, frantic apprehension, as if we’d lost something and had to find it. That is from the ring magic. Lord Elrond said that all the trinkets were bound to Finlor, and because he is dead, the ring magic has no focus to contain it, so it seeks without limit for a focus. That is what we will feel until the melting fully consumes the magic. Kíli sent all of us but Gandalf away for an hour to let the magic dissipate without affecting anyone.”

Lindir’s explanation calmed one set of my fears, but not another. It was all but certain that Kíli’s father was an Elf. He had so many of the trinket settings left to melt. Would the sheer number of them find a way past his Dwarvish protections to strike at the hidden Elf? Or would the long exposure to the dissipating magic confound him? Or would the fumes that shut the cavern’s gardens overwhelm him?

“Kíli was not affected at all?” I pressed my _otornoa_.

Teth shook his head firmly. “Kíli was well when we left him. He worked easily, with complete confidence. Gandalf is there with him. You know that Kíli will take all the care he can, and our wizard will keep watch over him, too.”

I sighed. “I know. But knowledge does not stop worry.”

“Of course not,” Giriel commiserated. “It would be distressing if it did, because it would not bode well for the affection between the two of you. But we will see to our ailing _otornoa_ , and we will wait as patiently as we can for the next hour to pass, and then we will make sure that Kíli is still unaffected before he begins the next batch of gold.”

I sighed again as I brought a carafe of water and glasses to my _otornoa_. Giriel was right, but that didn’t stop my worry, either.

 

* * *

 

Now that the pink gold was in its molds, I set the crucible back on the fire to heat, stoked the fire, and had a hearty snack while I waited for all to be ready to melt the next batch of gold. I made sure to drink a lot of water, too. I’d sweat like a fountain in the heat, which is why I’d dispensed with my tunic before I’d ever started. Dwarves were built to stand extremes of anything, so the intensity of the forge wouldn’t unduly affect me as long as I was careful to eat and drink enough. The Elves sat with me to talk, and I was relieved to know that so far, the vented fumes had not caused a problem. The breeze was stiff this morn, and had diluted and dispersed the acid vapor quickly. So far, so good.

The next gold I’d melt was the white gold. There were roughly twice as many settings in both white and green gold as pink, but there were a lot more green bits and bobs I’d removed from other settings – leaves, stems and so forth. Lord Elrond had told me that the silver added to yellow gold to make white gold rendered it less potent for the ring magic, so I hoped that that meant that it wouldn’t affect the Elves so badly. When the crucible was fully hot, I finished my hardboiled eggs and buns, gulped down my water, replaced my goggles, and drew on my gauntlets. This time, King Thranduil and Teth took their places at the bellows, and I added about a quarter of the settings to the crucible. The bellows fell into rhythm, and we were off again.

We managed to get more than half of the settings melted before the dissipating magic affected the Elves again, so I took over the bellows until Gandalf could see the Elves well away. Then he and I worked as before. Again, my attunement to the fire made the moments flit past like running deer, and it seemed only a few passed before Lord Elrond led the Elves back to pronounce the magic gone. This gold went into larger ingots, and soon thirty blocks of white gold began to cool beside the pink ones. We were not yet halfway done in terms of numbers of settings, but because two of the colors were complete, it felt like the halfway point.

I downed another round of buns, eggs, cheese, nuts, and water while the crucible reheated. The green gold was next, and Lindir gamely took his place beside Lord Elrond at the bellows. In went settings and various bits, and we were off again.

I didn’t get as many bits of gold into the crucible before the Elves felt the effects this time, so I shooed them off again, then dropped in another big handful of green gold. When it had melted, I added more, waited for it to melt, then added in the last. Then it was the pattern of the bellows, the roar of the fire, and the heat of the crucible for another hour.

This hour seemed to drag, but not by much. I said nothing until the green gold was cooling in its ingots, and the crucible was back on the fire. I wiped the sweat from my face, drained two of the water vessels, and then dipped into my basket – this time, for a slab of chicken. I sat with the Elves well away from the heat.

“Do you consider the next batch of gold, or something else?” Gandalf asked, giving me a close look.

“I didn’t feel anything from the green gold like what the Elves felt, but something’s changed,” I said slowly. “You know about the smith’s reverie, yes?”

None of the Elves knew, so whether Gandalf did or not, I explained. “When I’m at the forge, any amount of time goes by as fast as a few seconds. It’s quiet and peaceful, no matter how loud the fire is. Things flow from one to another. The metal speaks to me, telling me what it needs. The tools tell me how much force to apply for how long. I can spend days at a time in it, if need be, and never get tired or sleepy or impatient. But... something about the last batch was different. The time dragged. I’ve never felt like that before.”

Lord Elrond considered deeply, glancing at Gandalf. “The remaining gold is the yellow. It is the most potent of the golds in ring magic, as it contains neither copper nor silver, as the other colors of gold do. It is also the largest amount of gold we have to melt. Those are all things to consider.”

“There is one other,” Gandalf said, digging through his pockets to bring out Finlor’s four personal pieces. “I kept these aside. I thought it better not to include them with the others, because they may well be focal points for the rest. I thought destroying them last might mitigate any problems with melting the others, but I was wrong.”

“I think you were wise to hold them back, Mithrandir,” Lord Elrond said. “As we have learned, Finlor made himself the focus of the trinkets, and that is why we feel the effects of melting them. But the effect could be much worse if his personal tokens were destroyed first. Still, that is an esoteric point. The more important point is Kíli’s sense of a change. It may be wise to call a halt until tomorrow.”

I thought about that. There was a lot to think about, to be honest. There was the typical Dwarvish attitude of invincibility, and the youthful recklessness my mother was convinced would be the death of me. Balancing those were the caution that Tauriel had urged on me, and the desire not to jeopardize my life with her and our bairn. But there was also a new concern to tip the balance – I wanted to rid the Woodland Realm of this menace. Maybe King Thranduil’s court had too many flitter-wits, but the captain of his guard, his liaison, several guardsmen, an alchemist, and many other Elves I’d met were solid folk, and they should be led by a king and a court worthy of their regard. If I could help to being that about, I wanted to.

This newfound sense of altruism disquieted me – was I thinking like the king I’d never thought I could be?

I smothered a grimace. I could never tell my mother about this, or she’d hound me into Erebor with every waking breath.

“I’d like to keep going. So far, I don’t feel any compulsion as you Elves have, and the sense that the time dragged is faint. The Woodland Realm needs the end of these things, so if Gandalf will keep close watch on me, let’s try with half of the yellow gold. If the feeling gets any worse, or Gandalf thinks something is off, we’ll stop there, and see to the rest tomorrow. If not, we’ll keep going.”

Teth and Lindir looked at each other with concern, and so did a high lord, a king, and a wizard. Gandalf and Lord Elrond went aside with Finlor’s personal trinkets and were soon in deep discussion. I passed around my basket, and King Thranduil, Teth, Lindir, and I munched in silence while the two ring magic experts conferred. At length, they returned.

“We agree to proceed,” Lord Elrond said. “I have confirmed that neither the emerald nor the amethyst ring is a focus, so, Kíli, I ask you to remove the gems from those so that their settings may be included with the others. The ring of invisibility is not of Finlor’s make and has not been tainted, so Gandalf will hold it for a short time so that we may study it. The stone pendant, however, is a powerful focus, but as it cannot burn, we must deal with that in another way. I do not know whether housing it in a mithril box during the melt will help or hinder, so we will keep a box nearby in case it helps. After the melt, we will box the pendant until we know what to do with it.”

I took the emerald and amethyst rings that Lord Elrond held out to me. It was two minutes’ work to remove the amethysts, and another three to winkle the emerald out. As I passed the gems to King Thranduil, Gandalf put the invisibility ring into a small mithril box, and the box into his robes. The serpent pendant lay on the workbench beside a second mithril box; the king was put in charge of that while Gandalf and Lord Elrond took their places at the bellows.

Finlor’s gold settings were the first pieces I tossed into the crucible.

We worked as we had all morning, two on the bellows, two to watch, and me doling the gold settings into the crucible. I wasn’t so slow to fill the crucible as I had been with the other colors, because whether I’d felt something in my thoughts or not, it was no small thing for anything to disturb my smith’s reverie, and that would surely get worse with this last batch of gold. Indeed, my thoughts didn’t change, but my sense of time slowed to almost nothing, each second crawling by as slowly as a week. I ignored it, and kept careful watch on the melting gold. Each time one batch of settings softened and flowed, I put in another handful. I kept watch on the Elves, too, but even after Lindir’s face took on that driven expression, he sat firm, his eyes on Lord Elrond.

The last handful went in. As the moments crawled by, the settings softened, turned dark orange, and flowed into the molten gold. Just one more hour to go. I took over the bellows from Lord Elrond. From his face, it was clear that the unraveling magic harried him badly.

“Go! Get out of here! Take the Elves and go!” I panted.

Panted? Working at the forge never drained me like this. My thoughts were still my own, but my body labored as if I’d been working the bellows for days on end. That infuriated me. No fucking alchemist would have the upper hand over me at the forge! I gritted my teeth and kept pumping, groping in my thoughts for the sense of the metal that told me whether to speed up or slow down to keep the temperature constant. I was barely aware of Lord Elrond backing away, or even of Gandalf beside me, so hard was it to concentrate on the metal. Sense of it had never been so elusive, so tenuous. Time seemed to swim in molasses, and the seconds seemed to stick to one another, so reluctant were they to pass. I took to counting my breaths, but even they seemed to slow, and the sound of my slowing heart in my ears deafened the roar of the fire.

_This is all an illusion, Kíli. Magic. A poisoned illusion from a vindictive, cruel, malicious alchemist. It has no hold on a Dwarf. No hold. No... fucking... hold..._

I had the rhythm of the bellows. Nothing else, but I still had that. I shut my eyes, and willed my heart into rhythm with the bellows. It was only an hour. How long could that be?

It was a lifetime.

_You’re half an Elf, Kíli. A lifetime is eternal for an Elf. Yours will be, too, as long as you keep at the bellows. Keep at the bellows. Keep at the bellows..._

“Let go, Kíli!” The voice came from far away. “Let go, Kíli! The magic is gone! It’s gone!”

No, it wasn’t. Something still clawed at me, though I couldn’t tell where its claws scrabbled for a hold. My thoughts were my own, but they seemed far away. My body was no longer flesh – my heart was lead, my arms and legs were lead, I was nothing but a lead weight. The gold had turned me into lead. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around – wasn’t I supposed to turn lead into gold? No, no – lead hadn’t gone into the crucible, gold had, gold wrought and twisted by a viper alchemist, then further debased in the blood of a dragon. But heat had burned the blood away, and then it had leached out the malice, transforming the viper’s venom back into plain, pure gold. There was no more taint in it.

What tried to possess me, then, if the gold was cleansed?

The focus. Finlor’s focus. The stone serpent. It lay on the workbench, cold and inert, and it sought to suck the heat and life out of me, just as it did the Elves.

“Serpent!” I tried to shout, but no sound came out of my mouth. Oh, Valar, I had to say just one word, one word! “S-s-s-s-erpen –!”

Hands pried mine from the bellows. I heard shouting, but the sound receded to almost nothing. The air around me swirled, then stilled. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t right. The heat of the fire always sent the air rushing up the vent. But that hesitation, that hesitation... the air never stilled unless a gale was about to blow it back down...

The fumes! Poisoned fumes! Fumes full of acid, shoved back down the vent...

I tried to yell, but my lungs were as leaden as the rest of me.

 

* * *

 

_“Pull him away from the furnace!” Gandalf shouted._

_Thranduil scrambled to pry Kíli’s fingers away from the bellows. They were locked in a rictus that took all his strength to loosen. Lindir and Teth rushed forward to seize Kíli’s legs. Elrond and Thranduil grabbed his arms, and the foursome dragged the Dwarf away from the bellows._

_“What is wrong with him?” Thranduil demanded._

_“I do not know!” Elrond returned as Kíli struggled to breathe, to speak. Elrond bent over to put a hand on his bare chest._

_“'Kshonna, wanya! Kíli, awake! Awake!”_

_“Serpent –  pent!” Kíli gasped for breath. His eyes opened, but they were as white as milk. “Vent! Backwash! Run!”_

_“He is raving. This is not dragon sickness, or ring magic, Mithrandir,” Elrond panted as the Elves tried to drag Kíli away, but his body was as rigid as stone. “This is some other devilry!”_

_Gandalf’s gaze swept the forge, alighting on Finlor’s serpent. “He’s not raving. He’s trying to warn us. All of you, take him and move back! Now!”_

_The Elves dragged Kíli away from the fire. Gandalf snatched the serpent pendant and cast it onto the stone floor, right in front of the open end of the firebrick horseshoe. His staff, where was his staff? Ah, there! He raised it high, and brought the bottom end down hard onto Finlor’s pendant. When he spoke the word silently, a shock wave of light shattered the pendant, and sent the last traces of dragon’s blood vapor back up the vent and high into the air._

_The shock wave also shattered every glass vessel in the forge, but Gandalf was relieved that there were few of those, and none seemed to contain anything lethal. Kíli’s fire was out, but the gold was harmless now, and if it stayed in its crucible a while longer, so be it._

_On the other hand..._

_With another word, Gandalf relit the fire. Its heat wouldn’t deter another sharp gust of wind from forcing its way down the vent any better than it had the first one, but it would keep the gold liquid long enough to see to Kíli. He went swiftly to the Elves huddled by the forge door._

_“How fares Kíli?”_

_* * *_

 

Oh and oh, my head felt like a bell that’d been rung until it cracked. From somewhere, I heard a voice.

“How fares Kíli?”

Sensation slowly returned to my body, which wasn’t pleasant. I felt sore all over, the way I had long ago when every bully in Thorin’s Halls had considered me their favorite practice dummy. I struggled to sit up, but couldn’t coordinate arms and legs in the right order. Hands surrounded me, and helped me up.

“Oh, _rraf dahaut_ ,” I groaned. “What happened? Where am I?”

“We’re still in the forge, Kíli,” Teth reassured me.

“I don’t know what happened,” Gandalf admitted. “Apparently Finlor’s serpent pendant had a final bite. We can speculate on that later. The important thing now is to make sure that you’ve come through it unscathed.”

“I feel like the cavern fell on me,” I confessed. “The gold! What about the yellow gold? Did we finish it?”

“The gold is cleansed of its magic, and is still in the crucible. It will wait there without complaint until another day.”

“Fuck that! I’m not going to let that _kurvanog andartar_ keep me from finishing the job,” I growled, struggling to my feet. “Come on, you lot, let me up. The gold just needs pouring into the molds, and then we’re done with the rat bastard. I want to see it done and done.”

“If you can walk, we’ll see,” Lord Elrond said skeptically.

I glared at him as I walked to the forge to see the state of the gold. It had cooled a little, but a few moments with the bellows would fix that. I went to take my place there, but Lindir and Teth got to them first.

“Set the pace, Kíli,” Lindir ordered, looking so determined that I found a smile. I meekly did as I was told, and set out the two molds that would make the two large blocks of yellow gold. When the gold was nicely reheated, I took up the clamps for the last time, got the crucible in a good grip, and poured the gold in a steady stream into the molds. When the crucible was empty, I set it beside the fire, raked the coals apart to hasten their cooling, and looked around at the others. I was right and truly knackered, but I mustered a triumphant grin.

“Now I can sit down.”

“Indeed,” Gandalf said with a benevolent smile.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. Rhiannel, Giriel, and Tauriel have been anxiously awaiting the end of the trinkets, but the end comes fraught with more excitement than they expected. Has Finlor struck again?
> 
> Enjoy the drama!

Neither Tethrandil nor Lindir returned to our sitting room after their retreat from the first batch of dissipating ring magic. Giriel, Rhiannel, and I didn’t know whether to take that as a good sign or a bad one. On the one hand, perhaps Lord Elrond and Gandalf had deciphered enough from the first batch to protect the Elves from the subsequent ones. On the other hand, perhaps all had gone terribly wrong, and no one was able to tell us.

“If all had gone terribly wrong, _osellë_ ,” Giriel finally said in exasperation, “then we would know. There would have been an explosion, or billows of smoke, or maddened Elves running at full scream throughout the cavern!”

I stopped my pacing, which had been the cause of Giriel’s annoyance. She had been wrestling with Míriel, making funny noises and giggling to encourage our babe’s antics. Rhiannel had been sharpening his sword at the table, his supplies carefully out of Míriel’s reach. He looked up at his _a’maelamin’s_ exaggerations with a smile, but it was tinged with sympathy for me, as well.

“Gently, Giriel,” he counseled. “You have not yet had the pleasure of worrying about your _a’maelamin_ as Tauriel and I have. It is an exquisite pain unlike any other.”

Giriel shrugged as she marched Míriel’s ram just out of our babe’s reach, drawing her to crawl in pursuit. “Granted, Tauriel had much to fear when Kíli fell captive to the Orcs. And he was badly hurt when we reclaimed him. But you haven’t had to worry about me that way, Rhiannel.”

“He has, too!” I protested, putting my arms akimbo. “When you ran afoul of the steppe bandits, we were sure you would bleed to death before any of us could lift a finger. How can you forget that so quickly?”

Rhiannel chuckled at Giriel’s startled expression. “Tauriel speaks only the truth, _a’maelamin_. I was greatly worried about you then.”

The thoughtful Rhiannel’s voice was light with amusement. Still, Giriel saw the remembered concern behind it, and rolled to her feet in one fluid, elegant movement. Rhiannel put his sword and polishing rag aside as the maid sat on his lap to offer him a tender kiss. I smiled to see Rhiannel’s hand stray over her back in a caress. Kíli and I were not the only couple from Imladris who savored each other so well.

“You’re right, Rhiannel,” Giriel said contritely. “You did have cause to worry about me then. I’m sorry for doubting so.”

She kissed him again, drawing him to broaden his smile. “Mmm. I forgive you.”

Giriel’s grin was far from maidenly. She massaged Rhiannel’s shoulders until he grinned as widely as she. “ _Skator-u_ with Finlor’s _dahaut_. But for that, I’d reward you for your longsuffering patience with me, _a’maelamin_.”

Of course, that rekindled my worry, and I was back where I’d been a few moments ago. Giriel realized instantly, and gave an uncharacteristic wince. “Oh, Tauriel, I’m sorry. I’m worried about the gold, too. But we still haven’t heard an explosion, so –”

A tremor rippled through the rock. It was barely there, just a hair on the edge of perception, but it was all any of us needed to be at full alarm. Even Míriel gave an unsure chirp, and the corners of her mouth turned down.

“Oh, Valar. Kíli!” I whispered. I picked up Míriel and ran for the door. Giriel and Rhiannel were on my heels. We raced through the corridors, passing confused Elves who quickly darted out of our way as we ran by them. When we reached the forge, several Elves were already streaming through the door. My friends and I hastened after them. My heart thumped out of rhythm, scared of what I might find inside.

What I found was a quartet of Elves, all of them disheveled, even the king. Over the centuries, I had seen King Thranduil in many states, from deep sorrow to terrible rage, from blackest depression to spontaneous laughter. In none of those states had I ever seen him less than impeccably turned out. Even in the heat of the battle for Erebor, he had been blood-spattered and sweaty, yet never had a white hair been out of place, or his clothing less than exquisite. Not today. His tunic was sodden, the leather apron atop his tunic was worn and stained, his hair was mussed from its braid – another first; he was usually so vain about his hair that it was never braided out of sight – and his hands and forearms were smudged with soot. Lord Elrond was in no better straits, nor were Lindir and Tethrandil. I didn’t see Gandalf or my husband.

“Kíli?” I called, my heart in my throat. “Kíli!”

“Tada!” called Míriel, waving her hand.

The king looked up and came to me. “He is well, Tauriel, only resting as he justly deserves. He has labored long and hard today.”

“Did he get through all the gold?” Giriel pressed.

King Thranduil nodded. “Impressively so.”

“Thank the Valar,” I breathed. “Excuse me, my lord – Kíli!”

I threaded my way through the throng. Several of the Elvish smiths saw to a clatter of broken glass here and spills there, and others busied themselves around the central forge. I spotted Gandalf’s grey robes to one side, looking not nearly as mussed as our Elvish friends, and went to him.

“Where is Kíli?” I said to the wizard’s back. “We felt a tremor, and feared the worst.”

“That wasn’t me!” my husband denied stoutly, with as much injured pride as a lad caught stealing cakes. Gandalf stepped back and gestured at Kili sprawled on a stool, leaning back against the worktable with his heavy boots sticking out before him.

“Your husband, my dear,” the wizard said with a smile.

“Tada!” Míriel grinned, waving at him.

“Hullo, Míriel! Now Tauriel, that tremor wasn’t my doing,” Kíli repeated, and pointed at Gandalf. “It was him.”

My husband was a mess. His leather apron was wound around his waist, the top of it flopped in his lap, leaving his chest bare. He was slicked in sweat and grime, and his hair was as wet as the rest of him. He looked drawn and exhausted, which convinced me that something untoward had happened, because Kíli never came home from the forge drawn or exhausted. If anything, he came home energized and light of feet. But he was not burned, and the array of cooling ingots confirmed that he’d melted all of Finlor’s settings.

“What happened? And why is there broken glass everywhere?”

“Valar, Kíli!” Giriel added her voice to the fray. “You look like wrung out laundry! What did you do, try to knock the cavern down?”

“I already told you, it was the bloody wizard,” Kíli said wearily, but his eyes had a faint twinkle. “Don’t complain about it, either. He reduced Finlor’s snake pendant to powder, and kept the last bit of dragon’s blood from backwashing down the vent.”

The babble of questions and attempted answers combined with the noise of the smiths seeing to the furnace and cleaning up the mess, making such a din that Kíli sent Gandalf a pleading look. The wizard uttered such a compelling word of command that the light seemed to dim for a moment, and everyone else fell silent.

“Ah, that’s better,” he smiled to himself. He rarely used that tone, and when I’d heard it before, he had not followed it with a smile; the wizard enjoyed silencing this throng, then. “Our work is done for the day. I suggest that we reward our brave friends with time to refresh themselves, and then we can convene for supper.”

“Bloody hell yes,” Kíli intoned with deep gratitude, but he was only the first of our friends to express that same heartfelt intensity. My husband got to his feet slowly, took up his basket, now nearly empty, and gave me a grateful smile. “Point me to the bath, Tauriel, and I’ll go quietly.”

I smothered a smile. “That worries me, husband.”

Kíli gave me a startled look. “It does?”

I nodded with great solemnity. “It does. Nothing innocuous can quiet you, so it must have been something dire.”

His lips twitched in that irrepressible grin. “That Finlor was a right bastard, he was. But Gandalf had the last word. I thank him kindly for it, too.”

“Then so do I. Now, to the bath.”

“Oh and oh, I’m right behind you.”

We left the Elvish smiths to clean up the remnants of Gandalf’s intervention, and took ourselves slowly back to our guest suite. There was little talking, which spoke eloquently of the exhaustion that our comrades felt. Lindir walked with Lord Elrond, and Teth walked with the king. Gandalf was the only one of the lot who seemed refreshed, and truly, he showed no sign of fatigue or labor, much less soot or sweat. His powers were things of fire, so perhaps the intensity of the forge had been more fuel to him than drain. In any case, he led us back sedately, in consideration of those who had labored so long. We separated at the corridor leading to the guest suite, but not without one more pause – Legolas hurried towards us at a trot.

“Ada!” Legolas skidded to a stop, his eyes widening as he looked his disheveled father up and down. “Ada? What in Middle Earth happened to you? I’ve never seen you so...”

“So foul?” King Thranduil smiled. He seemed almost proud of himself to be in such a state. “It was a surprising experience, my son. I did not expect the unmaking of magic to require so much toil and dirt.”

“I’ve never seen you look so... disreputable!” Legolas gulped. To everyone’s surprise, King Thranduil laughed without affront or malice, and waved at Lord Elrond. “I am in excellent company, then.”

Legolas’s eyes widened still more to see the high lord of Imladris in equal disarray. “My Lord Elrond, why...?”

“We will tell the tale shortly, when we are not so disreputable as to ruin the upholstery. The short of it is to say that Finlor’s trinkets are no more.”

Legolas surveyed Lindir, Teth, and Kíli in turn, gulping at the state of them. I did not blame him. I hadn’t seen Kíli so begrimed since his liberation from the Gundebad Orcs. “It was no easy doing, it seems.”

“It was not,” King Thranduil shook his head. “When we have restored ourselves, we will share supper with our friends and tell the tale.”

“I will be there,” Legolas promised. “I came to ask if it is prudent to open the cavern again.”

The king looked to Kíli and Gandalf, but it was the wizard who replied. “I will confirm that the vapor has gone, and will tell you what I find.”

“If Mithrandir deems it safe, then,” the king said, “let the doors be opened.”

“I will see to it, Ada. Gandalf, I will go with you. Until later, all.”

We separated, and Kíli mustered enough energy to get to our guest suite. He made a beeline to our room and the bathing chamber beyond, drawing Giriel’s laugh. That Teth made just as direct a line to his room drew another chuckle from her. She came to me and held her arms out for Míriel.

“Go tend your valiant smith, _osellë_. I wager he’ll be asleep as soon as he sinks into the warm tub, and he will need you to keep his nose above the water.”

Laughing, I put Míriel in her arms. “No wager. He’ll need me to scrub all the soot out of his hair, too.”

I followed Kíli into our room, and sure enough, he was already in the tub, his filthy clothes in a heap by the door and his head under the taps. I hurried in.

“Wait, _a’maelamin_ ,” I warned, “your hair is still braided. Soaking it will make it impossible for me to get the plait out.”

Kíli looked up, blinking the water out of his eyes. “It was soak my head, or fall over, Tauriel. I’ve never felt so tired in my life.”

“What happened?” I pinned up my hair, and slipped off my clothes. “I’ve never seen forge work drain you so.”

Kíli slid forward to give me room to climb in behind him. It was a mark of his exhaustion that he propped his arms on the edge of the tub and leaned his head on them. “It wasn’t the forge, and maybe not even the gold. It was that bastard Finlor’s snake pendant. Lord Elrond said the pendant was Finlor’s focus...”

As he gave me a bare sketch of the melting and Gandalf’s subsequent intervention, I coaxed his hair out of its tangled braid. It was such a mess that I had to oil part of it to free the strands of his mane. When it was at last undone, I soaped it thoroughly, as well as his back. He was able to scrub the rest of himself, then wearily lay back against my chest to soak up the warmth. In the next moment, he was asleep. I smiled as I thought of how Giriel would roll her eyes and laugh. At least he’d stayed awake until he was clean.

I wrapped my arms around him, and touched the runes tattooed on Kíli’s left wrist with a light finger. Then I sent Aulë my thanks for making Dwarves so strong.

 

* * *

 

“Kíli.”

The sweetest, softest voice caressed my ears, making me smile.

“Kíli.”

To hear such a wonderful voice say my name was a gift beyond price. I wanted to hear that voice say my name forever and ever, and then forever again.

“Kíli, _amrâlimê_ , the water turns cold. Let me dry you off and you can go back to sleep for a while in bed.”

I opened my eyes, but didn’t see the vision of beauty I expected, the ethereal face that went with that caressing voice. I stared at the end of a bathing tub. My feet were under the water. Oh... two long, narrow Elvish feet bracketed mine. The view might not be much, but the thought behind it was delicious. I shut my eyes and smiled again.

“Kíli, wake up. You need to stay warm, so come dry off and get into bed.”

When I shifted a little, the truth of the cooling water announced itself. I shivered, and opened my eyes. I lay against Tauriel’s chest. She had started to shiver, too. That roused me more than my discomfort did. Elves chilled so much faster than Dwarves did, and I didn’t want to make her bear the chill any more than I had to. I sat up, stretching, and turned to look back at my wife.

“Did I sleep long?”

“An hour. I didn’t have the heart to wake you, you were so exhausted.”

“You should have, rather than bear a chill, _amrâlimê_. Here, let me bring you a towel.”

We clambered out, and took turns to help each other dry off.

“Do you want to crawl into bed and go back to sleep?”

My stomach growled so loudly that Tauriel laughed, and I laughed at her laughing. “I do, more than anything. I’m tired to my bones. But I’d better stay up long enough to fill my belly. Else I won’t get a wink of sleep.”

“Then here is a towel for your hair. We can get dressed, and then sit in front of the fire in the sitting room to dry.”

I wrapped my hair up long enough to get dressed, then we went out to find the fire. Rhiannel and Giriel were there with Míriel, and so were a plate of breads and cheeses and a carafe of good wine. I plunked the plate down in front of the fire and myself beside it. My wife and friends joined me with the wine and glasses, and we took the edge off our hunger. We talked a little about the gold, enough that Rhiannel was content to wait for the longer story. Giriel wasn’t, but she good-naturedly agreed to hold off her curiosity until we had our real supper.

Before long, my hair was dry enough for Tauriel to return my earrings and marriage ring to their rightful places, and then to put in my braids; Giriel and Rhiannel worked on theirs beside me. Míriel sat in the middle of us, happy with her toys and our company. It was a good time, reminiscent of our journey to Thorin’s Halls when we’d grown close, sharing meals and conversation in our Orc Spawn tent.

Before long, Lindir slipped in to bring us to supper. He looked much cleaner, which I teased him about, but he tsked without heat.

“You were so dirty you looked like a troll,” he teased. “And smelled like one, too.”

“You weren’t any lilac, either, Elf,” I teased back. “In fact, I didn’t know Elves were capable of smelling as bad as you did.”

“How could you tell what I smelled like?” Lindir riposted, undeterred. “Surely you could not have smelled me over your own stench, Dwarf.”

Giriel burst out laughing. “Oh, Lindir, we have rubbed off on you! You trade insults with a Dwarf with gusto now! Perhaps Kíli won’t have to be an ambassador to deal with the emigrating Dwarves at all. You’re fully able to handle them yourself now!”

Lindir’s smile became a little strained. “Oh, I don’t think so, Giriel. I have not mastered Kíli’s abilities with cake platters, or Black Speech.”

“If I teach you those, then you really will be able to handle them yourself, Lindir, and I’ll be forced to go to Erebor, and I don’t want that. So you’re safe.”

“I certainly hope so,” the Elf held up his hands. “Now come to supper. I am ravenous!”

“So am I, and that’s no lie,” I said as I got to my feet. “Come on, Míriel. Berry crumble!”

“Cumble!” Míriel laughed, lifting her arms up for me to pick her up, and off we went.

It was a merry gathering, with many dishes and breads and wines. I made a right pig out of myself, but whatever had happened at the forge today had depleted me down to my toes, and it took a lot of everything to fill me up. We told and retold the tale until Giriel, Rhiannel, Tauriel, and Legolas were convinced they’d heard every nuance and detail.

“I’ve got the next question, Gandalf,” I said, when the conversation lulled. “What happened to me in the forge? Was it the pendant?”

“I believe it was,” the wizard nodded, sipping his wine. “Perhaps, as the number of trinkets dwindled, there was less to feed the pendant, and so it sought to draw from the source of its power. But that source – Finlor – was no more, and so it went further afield. When the Elves moved out of range, only you and I remained within its range. I was not fit fodder, and you barely were, but with nothing else to feed it, it made do.”

“Until you smashed the thing,” I nodded in understanding. “So have we put an end to Finlor’s trouble once and for all, now?”

“We have,” Lord Elrond gave me a smile. “Well done, Kíli!”

A chorus of cheers went up, to which I replied, “Well done, Lord Elrond! King Thranduil. Tethrandil. Lindir. And Gandalf, for saving us all in the end. You were all the best smith’s apprentices I could have asked for. Also, well done, Tauriel, Giriel, and Rhiannel, for standing in reserve and seeing to Míriel. And to Legolas for setting up the forge and taking care of the cavern while the rest of us saw to the gold. It was an honor to stand with you.”

I’d offered a deep bow to each one as I’d thanked him or her, and they were met with smiles and nods in return. Despite my tiredness, I rubbed my hands together.

“So that just leaves the necklace.”

I wasn’t surprised to hear groans, or see smiles dim. After two days of such labor, no one wanted to think about anything but a respite, me among them. But we still had one more hurdle to go before I could start on my treaty, and I wanted that out of the way as soon as possible, no matter how tired  I was.

“I know, we’ve just sorted out Finlor’s trinkets, and nobody wants to think past that. But I’ve given a lot of thought about what to do about the necklace, and I don’t think it’ll be anything like the trinkets to sort out. I’ll need the forge again, but just to melt the gold. Compared to all of the trinkets, it’s a small amount. I’ll pop the gems, and heat them to dissipate the dragon’s blood. The gold won’t need anything any of you can provide once I’ve melted it. But what I have to do to it after I melt it will upset the cavern, so I’d like to offer a suggestion, King Thranduil.”

“By all means, Kíli,” the king nodded.

“Take everyone however far away from the cavern for the day. Have a lawn party or something. While everyone’s out, I’ll unseat the gems, treat them, melt the gold, and then take myself off to the _Glawar-galad_ for the time I’ll need to get the gold into the right shape. Two days in the _Glawar-galad_ passes as just a few minutes here. No more necklace, and no disturbance beyond drinking too much wine at a lawn party.

“All I need,” I said, raising my voice when the questions began, “is an anvil, a hammer, and a right lot of parchment.”

“Parchment?” Giriel repeated incredulously. “Parchment? Kíli, that serpent’s pendant pickled you. You can’t neutralize dragon’s gold with parchment.”

“No, I can’t,” I agreed. “But I can use it to make the gold disappear.”


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. At last, the moment you've waited for - what will Kili do about the necklace?
> 
> This is a short chapter, but I hope it's a satisfying one.

 So... here I was at the forge again, stoking the fire and preparing my molds. There were no Elves in attendance this time, though, only a wizard who would watch over me as I prepared to pull the teeth out of a long-dead dragon’s legacy. There was but one mithril box on the workbench, but three crucibles waited beside the fire, small ones compared to those I’d used to melt the piles of gold from Finlor’s trinkets.

This would be a much smaller effort physically, though it removed a much larger threat.

Last night, after Giriel had accused me of being pickled, I’d explained what I intended to do with the necklace, an explanation that at first had met only stunned silence. But before long, everyone agreed that my solution was the only one that made sense. So in short order, Lindir, Legolas, and I had made another list of things to haul down to the _Glawar-Galad_ , and King Thranduil had considered where to hold the mother of all lawn parties at least a mile away from the cavern. Giriel had enthusiastically jumped in to help with that, and so had the rest of the Elves. Gandalf had sat in the middle of it all, smiling as if he’d organized the entire affair.

Maybe he had. Wizards were full of surprises, as well as hidden agendas.

I’d been surprised at how quickly it was all organized. I’d expected it to take a week to arrange enough provender to feed the entire Woodland Realm, and to account for everyone to be sure the cavern was empty before I took the necklace out of the mithril box. But after the whole flibbeting about Finlor’s trinkets, the Elves were on edge, and it had taken very little to impress upon them the danger of staying in the cavern for an afternoon. The king had done a masterful job of explaining that Finlor’s lingering effects must be purged from the cavern so as to make it safe once again, and folk had gone right along. So just two days had passed before I was able to start.

I’d slept through every scrap of those two days. I hadn’t slept so long since I was a tween. That might’ve sobered me about how badly Finlor’s serpent had bitten me, but I had been too excited to see the necklace done.

In due time, I’d woken up to find the cavern in an uproar. Tauriel had told me that King Thranduil had prefaced his declaration of an epic lawn party with a severe dose of chastisement for folk heeding Finlor’s blandishments. He’d followed that up with a description of the danger of such things. But he’d ended on the right note, as smiling and open as he hadn’t been in some time, and that while the cavern needed its final cleansing, it was a welcome beginning to a better time, and that required a celebration.

“So first he scared the _dahaut_ out of the lot of them, and then he promised them a party,” I’d grinned.

Tauriel’s smile had been just as impish. “Just so, _a’maelamin_. They cheered as loudly as Míriel when she sees a dish of her favorite treat.”

“Bewy cumble!” Míriel had supplied.

I’d stuffed myself after my long sleep, then had rested quietly in our sitting room for the rest of the morning. The Elves’ lawn party would begin after the usual luncheon hour, so that folk could come enjoy themselves with food and drink all afternoon as they chose. There would be music and dancing as well as food, and the entire guard would be in attendance in case enemies decided to make a foray. The weather would be warm and sunny, and I had been almost sorry to miss the festival.

Almost, but not enough to tempt me out of the forge. I wanted this done, and not just for itself. When the dragon’s necklace was no more, I’d finally get my chance to make the treaty for my emigrating folk, and then I could go home with my wife and child before winter began. I wanted that more than anything.

Luncheon had come for me, if not for the rest of the Elves, and I’d filled my provision basket one more time. I’d seen my wife, my bairn, my lord, and my friends off to the party, and then Gandalf and I had made our way down to the forge.

Gandalf made himself comfortable out of the way. He wouldn’t have to work the bellows this time; I needed only to melt the gold for casting, not cleanse it for an hour. The gems would require heating for a bit to burn off the dragon’s blood, but that required a much lower temperature than melting the gold did, so I’d put them on the fire first, and by the time I had the gold melted, they’d be clean. Once the gold was melted, I would cast it in the special molds Wandril had set out for me, let them cool, and then be off to the Glawar-galad.

The fire was close to the hot coals I needed when Tauriel came to the door of the forge. She had Míriel in her arms.

“The cavern is empty, Kíli,” she said. “May your time at the forge this time be swift, safe, and simple.”

I savored her kiss on my cheek, then my lips. “I thank you, _amrâlimê_. Enjoy the party. If all goes well, I’ll see you in a day or two. Miri, you’ll have to eat extra crumble for me, whatever flavor it is.”

My wife grinned. “That will not prove difficult.”

“Good enough.” I kissed Míriel’s cheek and fluffed her silky hair. “Now, you’d better go, Tauriel _._ I open the box in twenty minutes.”

She kissed me again. “My heart to yours, _a’maelamin_.”

“And mine to yours.”

She went without a backward look, her steps brisk and her back straight, a warrior to the end. I turned back to the forge with the same resolve. The gestures fooled neither of us, though. I felt her love and concern in my chest, as surely as she felt mine. We would come back to each other soon, once I had finished the dragon’s gold.

In twenty minutes, I put the crucibles on the fire to heat. As I turned away, Gandalf took the mithril box out of his robes and handed it to me. I laid it on the workbench, got my tools in hand, and opened the box.

“Any twinge?” I asked Gandalf, as I looked upon the graceful, elegant sprays of dreamflowers that twined into so beautiful a necklace. Despite its beauty, this thing had wrought nothing but mayhem and destruction for centuries.

“None. And you, my boy?”

I gave the necklace a good long stare, just in case Finlor’s pendant had turned something inside me, but I felt nothing. “Not a thing. On to the gems, then.”

I put on thin gloves, in case the dried dragon’s blood got on my fingers, combined with any moisture, and turned into liquid acid. Then I worked quickly to remove the pink rubies and adamants from the poisoned gold. I left the bare gold shut in its mithril box while I put the adamants into one small crucible, and the pink rubies into another. They started to heat without problem. So I fetched the mithril box, took out the dragon’s gold, and dropped it into the third crucible.

I worked the bellows alone this time. Gandalf was there strictly to ensure that the dragon’s gold didn’t turn on me as it had everyone else. If it did, I’d told him how to bring the gold to melt, how to pour it into the molds, and then how to process it in the Glawar-galad, so that we’d be finally rid of it. But as I worked the bellows, building the heat higher, I felt no fatigue, no confusion. I fell into the smith’s reverie easily, eagerly, listening to the fire and the gold.

I almost thought the gold might speak with the dragon’s voice at some point, but it remained silent, even when the blood burned away in small flares. It seemed as if only a few seconds passed before the necklace glowed orange, its delicate tendrils and twists shimmered and trembled for a moment, and then vanished as the gold melted into a smooth button at the bottom of the crucible. I gave it another few moments, just to see it well heated, then took up the clamps.

“Ready to cast!” I warned Gandalf, and hefted the crucible out of the fire. I carried it swiftly to the molds, and poured it smoothly into five bars. When the crucible was empty, I put it aside, and then used the tongs to plunge the molds into the waiting buckets of water. The water bubbled and steamed as the heat left the molds, but quickly calmed. Before long, I could lift the molds out, and upend them on the workbench to free the bars. I let them cool a bit more while I took the gems from the heat and poured them into a thick iron bowl to cool. The gold bars were cool enough now for me to put them on a small iron tray, and the tray went into a mithril box. I shut the box, stirred the coals to cool the fire, and gave Gandalf a grin of triumph.

“Good so far,” I said.

“Very good so far,” the wizard agreed, smiling.

“Off to the _Glawar-galad_ , then.”

He took the box of gold, I took the bowl of gems, and we headed down to the stores. Once we entered the garden, we relaxed a bit. Given the way time passed so much more swiftly here, I could catch my breath, even walk around a bit. We had a substantial snack, but as delicious as the meats and cheeses and salads and breads and ale were, I was eager to get started on the next part. I trusted that my smith’s reverie would stand me in good stead again, even though this part required no heat. I needed only a heavy hammer on the right anvil, and a Dwarf’s persistence.

I was going to make gold leaf.

Pure gold is very soft. That was just one of the qualities that jewelers liked about working with it. It was easy to shape when it was that pure, and that was what would help me now. In casting, I had to make a bar that would come out of a mold well, but to make gold leaf, I needed to make those bars much, much thinner. So I took the first bar, still slightly warm, and put it through a series of rollers that did just that – stretched the gold thinner and thinner, until I had a lot of very, very thin sheets of gold. I put the sheets in mithril boxes until I had turned all the bars into those thin sheets.

Next came the sheets of animal gut. I cut the sheets of gold into small squares about an inch to a side. Then I laid down a four-inch square of animal gut and put a square of gold in the center. I put another sheet of gut on top, and another square of gold in the center of it. I kept doing that until I had a stack of a hundred squares. Then I carefully wrapped the stack in several layers of the parchment I’d told my friends about. I took the packet to the anvil, and got ready for the beating.

The anvil I’d asked for wasn’t made of iron, but granite. The Elves were no strangers to making gold leaf, and they’d had exactly the setup I was used to, a great hunk of stone set in a massive tree stump. It had been no easy thing to haul that into the _Glawar-galad_ , but given the corrupting nature of the gold, there had been no way around that. My hammer, though, was iron – fifteen pounds of it. I had another few buns and a big drink of water, and set to.

There was a rhythm to pounding leaf, because I had to rotate the packet every few strokes, to make sure that the gold expanded evenly. It was a different rhythm than that for the bellows, or smithing iron, or smelting ore, but it was still a rhythm that I enjoyed. The hour I needed to beat the one-inch squares of gold into thinner four-inch squares of gold went by quickly. I made up the rest of the gold into similar packets, and pounded away on each of them until I had twenty packets.

I’d worked through the night to get all of the gold through the first beating. I closed the lot of it into mithril boxes, and took a welcome break. Gandalf and I shared supper – or breakfast, rather – and I took a wash in the pool. I found the trysting chamber that Tauriel and I had used a few days ago, crawled into bed, and wondered whether I’d be able to sleep without Tauriel beside me.

I fell asleep before the thought was fully formed.

The next morn began the major labor – the second beating. I carefully cut each four-inch square of thin gold into four squares, interleaved them with animal gut again, and made packets of about a thousand squares. Around and around went more parchment. That cut the original twenty packets down to eight. Each of them needed three hours of beating to make the one-inch squares of gold expand to four-inch ones. So twenty-four hours later, I surfaced from my reverie with eight well-pounded packets of gold leaf.

If I were planning to use this for ornamentation, I’d have to make another batch of thirty-two packets, each of which would need another four hours of beating, until the gold was as thin as gossamer. But for what I needed, two beatings were enough. Gandalf and I ate a stupendously huge meal, then I tidied my tools, bathed, and dressed in sturdy riding gear.

The last part was at hand. I left a note for Tauriel saying all had gone well, and Gandalf had left a similar one for Lord Elrond and the king. The wizard pocketed the cooled gems from the necklace. We took the boxes of gold leaf in hand, left the _Glawar-galad_ , and headed to the stable.

Less than an hour had passed in the rest of the cavern since we’d entered the _Glawar-galad_. The cavern was strangely quiet given the absence of its denizens. The stable was the only place that seemed unchanged, for the horses were still in residence. I saddled Trellennan, who seemed glad to see me, and Gandalf had his horse ready after mine. We trotted out of the stable, over the bridge, and into the depths of Mirkwood.

We rode several miles before I dismounted to open the first mithril box. I carefully unwrapped the parchment from the first packet to reveal the first sheet of gold leaf. I had a tiny knife to cut a miniscule fragment from the sheet, and tiny tweezers to take the fragment out of the box. Gandalf had also dismounted, and had poked a hole into the forest floor with his staff. The fragment went in the hole.

It took two days of wandering through many miles of forest to disperse the dragon’s gold. The many thousands of fragments were tiny, barely visible, and scattered far apart in tangled undergrowth, under thickets, within rotten trees, and down rabbit holes. Yes, the dragon’s gold was still virulent, if less so now that the dragon's blood had burned away. There was no remedy for that. But I had seen to it that no one would ever collect enough of it again for it to wreak its madness.

We rode back to the cavern in good spirits. Gandalf was elated about the end to the gold’s menace, and so was I. But I had other reasons to cheer. I would soon see my _amrâlimê_ and bairn again, which was sweet anticipation. And finally, finally, I’d get to the reason I’d come to the Woodland Realm in the first place.

I’d make a treaty with the king of the Woodland Realm.


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. King Thranduil throws a lawn party, which provokes a change to the friendship between Tauriel and Legolas. Kili and Gandalf reappear two days later after their forest foray, and Miriel has the last laugh.
> 
> We're getting near the end, mellonea nin. There's just the treaty left to go. But first, a little celebrating!

To my surprise, King Thranduil staged a wonderful lawn party. He directed the guard to set up a site east of the cavern, just at the edge of the forest where it gave way to the open grasslands that lay between Mirkwood and Esgaroth some forty miles away. There, by the Forest River, in a flat meadow, fires were built to hold cooking pots and spits, and nearby were tables to hold dishes of salad, breads, and cakes. Around the food tables, the Elves arranged coverlets and cushions on the grass where they could relax. A large troupe of musicians provided music for singing and dancing, and the food and wine were plentiful. The king, Legolas, and the Imladris Elves circulated freely among the Woodland folk, and the mood was jovial and relaxed.

For me, it was one thing to notice the care King Thranduil had put into the lawn party, but entirely another to enjoy it. I was too worried about Kíli to think of much else.

The Orc Spawn understood my preoccupation, and so took pains to see that I was well looked after. Lindir took Míriel in hand – he kept his hair well out of her reach this time – so that I could dance with Teth, and then Legolas. Giriel convinced King Thranduil to take a slow, stately dance around the meadow with her, which had several Woodland maids noticing what a graceful and elegant figure he cut. He soon relinquished Giriel back to Rhiannel; the pair of them were fine dancers, and enjoyed it so much that they were continually in motion. They were an elegant pair, to be sure. But the loving attention they paid each other, whether dancing, sampling cake or salad, walking arm in arm, or laughing with others, surely gave the Woodland Elves a clear understanding of the blessedness of bonding.

I hope it gave them the urge to sample it for themselves, as well.

As I watched my affectionate friends, I did more than worry about Kíli – I missed him beside me. How I would have liked to hear his chortle of laughter, feel his warm hand on my arm, see his _ancalima hendi_ , his brightest of eyes, shining at me. How he would have exclaimed over the good food while he stuffed Míriel and himself full. How he would have coaxed the musicians into a lively tune so he could teach the Elves the wild jumping dance he and the Dwarves had done at our marriage party. But he was serving the duties of ambassador – of a good soul, in truth, for surely no ambassador had ever been asked to dispose of dragon’s gold before. I sighed. Finlor’s madness was ended, and soon the menace of that dragon’s gold would be, too. Only the treaty remained before my husband was mine again.

At length, Legolas and I retrieved Míriel from Lindir, who was immediately challenged to a game of chess with Ondine, King Thranduil’s liaison officer. Several such games were in play, including chess, and foxes and hounds. The aide was gratified, and soon the contest was on, with many observers. When I spotted King Thranduil explaining foxes and hounds to Teth, I smothered a smile; our white-haired Orc Spawn was a canny hand at several games of chance, given his many decades of treating with merchants bringing goods to Imladris. The king would find his equal in the benign smile of our friend.

As neither Legolas nor I were fond of games, we walked slowly together over the meadow, each of us holding one of Míriel’s hands as she stumped along with enthusiasm. Several maids watched our parade, sending the prince smiles that he pretended not to see.

“Now that Finlor’s trinkets are no more, perhaps you will have more to converse with than flitter-wits,” I said with a smile.

Legolas offered a longsuffering grimace. “I hope so. I did not miss the court at all during my two years away. It was a relief to converse only with my horse.”

“Alafel’s conversation would have been a vast improvement,” I agreed.

“There was quite a bit less of it, to be sure.” He looked around surreptitiously. “I spend most of my time with the guard. They are better company than the court.”

“They are good friends,” I agreed. “I have enjoyed seeing them again.”

“It’s hard to believe that Finlor’s been dead for ten days,” Legolas observed, helping me to lift Míriel over a rock.

I nodded agreement. “His death was just the start. It wasn’t until we cleared out his trinkets that the air cleared. So yesterday was the end of his reign, and today is the beginning of better times.”

“The change in Ada is so... unexpected,” Legolas said thoughtfully, giving his father a glance. The king animatedly explained a point of the game to Teth, sipping from a glass of wine, a half-eaten apple in his hand. “He is so much lighter.”

“I am glad for you, Legolas. He has not been an easy father.”

Legolas’s regret was more for me than himself. “I wish he had come to this before Erebor, when his warmth might have offered you more than banishment.”

“But I am not banished any longer,” I said lightly. Legolas’s face didn’t lose its sadness, so I paused in our walking to lay a hand on his arm. “Do not despair, _otorno_. I am happier than I ever thought to be. If I had stayed here, then Lord Elrond and Gandalf would never have had reason to come here, and would not have been the catalyst to banish a great evil from this place.”

“Or Kíli,” Legolas added. “He has been more responsible for the change than Lord Elrond or Gandalf.”

I squeezed his arm. “Kíli is a warm and generous soul. He has borne the brunt of so much spite, so many hardships, yet one would never guess so. All the malice directed at him seems only to make him more determined to do right in everything that crosses his path.”

Legolas lowered his voice. “He is a prince of Durin, but his back... the scars... were they due to the spite you speak of?”

“Orcs gave him those scars because he _is_ a prince of Durin, for all that he does not think he is,” I replied, and sketched him a bare-bones version of our travels across Middle Earth to Thorin’s Halls and back again. Legolas listened in silence until I was done.

“All to keep a promise to his mother?”

I laughed. “You have not met his mother. Dís is a most formidable Dwarf – an able counselor, a fierce fighter, with a strong mind. Kíli wanted to honor her by keeping his promise, not himself. I came to like her very much when she stayed with us in Imladris. Still, be glad that your father will negotiate with Kíli rather than his mother. He is more flexible, and less prickly. But then he is less prickly than many Dwarves, for all that he can brawl with any of them. You have not seen him fight, I think. He is a force unto himself.”

“I saw him fight for you at Erebor. That intensity... it was how I knew you and he had bonded.” Legolas glanced at me, but kept most of his attention on Míriel. “I am grateful for that intensity, and yours, for both saved my life as well as yours.”

“I regret that so many of us fell at Erebor,” I said. “But grateful that so many of us survived, too.”

Legolas hummed as we drew Míriel up and over another rock. My joyous babe kicked her feet gleefully as she sailed over the rock, and laughed softly to herself. Some few feet away, a maid walked abreast of us, chuckling at Míriel’s clear enjoyment. Legolas had long ago learned to be aware of every maid around him so as to avoid a surprise ambush by flitter-wit, but this was a maid from the guard, with quick wits and a rare tendency to speak only when she had something to say. When Legolas grimaced, I gave him a sisterly look.

“Gently, _otorno_. Varilel is on the guard, remember. She will not waft a drapery over you, or try to dazzle you with gems and languid glances. She knows quite a lot about horse breeding. Given your preference for Alafel’s conversation, you might find Varilel’s equally comfortable.”

Legolas smiled ruefully as I picked up Míriel. “Until later, then, _osellë_.”

I watched as Legolas greeted Varilel, chatting as they walked together to the food tables and found something to drink. When I gave Míriel a glance, she stretched her hand out to pat my nose. “Tada?”

I nibbled on her fingers. “I wish he was here, too, silly Dwelfling. I hope his work is done by now, and he and Gandalf are well away to disperse their flakes of gold.”

I found Míriel a custard cake, and one for myself. We stood quietly to munch our treats, watching the Elves enjoy themselves. It was a happy scene, signaling a new start for the Woodland Realm, and I was satisfied for helping to bring it about.

But I still missed Kíli.

 

* * *

 

The lawn party lasted all afternoon, but I left it before then. Teth had been the one chosen to check the cavern for word from Kíli and Gandalf, and after his games with the king he ran to the cavern. He came back with notes in hand only three hours after the lawn party had begun. Lord Elrond read the one Gandalf had left for him, and I read the one Kíli had left for me. Both wrote that the gold had been successfully melted, the gems cleaned, and the leaf well beaten, that they had set out to scatter the leaf, and would return in two days or so. A few other Elves chose to return to the cavern as I did, and we walked the scant mile from the meadow to the main cavern entrance together, chatting pleasantly of this or that. I took Míriel down to the stables, ostensibly to see Jalsin, but also to confirm that Trellennan and Gandalf’s usual mount were truly gone. Míriel had a fine time patting the noses of most of the horses, for they seemed to sense her good nature, and so suffered her attentions without complaint. It was quiet in the stable, and we spent a pleasant hour there.

I came back to the silence of our guest suite, missing Kíli more than ever, but preferring to do so alone and in silence, rather than having to pretend interest in conversation. Míriel had had a wonderful time playing in the grass and leaves, and then with the horses, and needed bathing. I slipped us into the tub, and enjoyed her splashes and giggles. Afterwards, we indulged in the stories and songs she liked so much.

When Míriel was ready to contemplate her toes, I put her in her cradle with Troli’s doll and her blanket. Then I retreated to bed. I didn’t need to sleep, and could have settled with a book on the reading couch. But the sheets and pillows still smelled faintly of Kíli’s spicy scent, which was a comfort.

The next two days were pleasant enough, but my thoughts were elsewhere, with Kíli in the forest. The only reason I didn’t saddle Jalsin and ride after him was the nature of the dragon’s gold. Still, the waiting was as much gall as the gold had been. So when the message came that Kíli and Gandalf had returned from their efforts, I grabbed Míriel from the middle of her toys and ran out of the guest suite.

“Míriel! Tada is coming home. Your Tada!”

“Tada?” Míriel looked around as best she could as we jostled through the corridors. “Where?”

“He’s outside, Miri! We’ll see him in a moment! Outside!”

As we ran out of the main entrance to the cavern, a crowd had already gathered outside. King Thranduil and Lord Elrond arrived just after I ran out, and both had wide smiles on their faces to see our pair of returning wanderers approach the bridge from the forest. I ran forward over the wide, grassy ground, reaching Kíli and Gandalf just as they crossed the bridge. I smiled at Gandalf, who had led the way over the bridge, but it was Kíli who had most of my attention. The wizard grinned in understanding, and graciously rode forward, leaving me to greet my husband in relative privacy.

“Look, Míriel! Look! Who is that?”

“Tada!” she shrieked. “Tada!”

Kíli’s grin threatened to split his head, and he held his hands out for our daughter. “Míriel! My little jewel! Did you miss me?”

“Tada! Tada!”

“She missed you almost as much as I did.” I passed Míriel up to Kíli, who kissed her soundly, and plunked her before him in the saddle.

“And how much did you miss me?” he laughed, his eyes shining brightly at me in the afternoon sun.

“More than was bearable.”

“Come here, then.” He freed his boot from his stirrup and held out his hand. I was behind him with my arms wrapped around him faster than he could take another breath. My dark Dwarf was in my arms again! But Kíli was not content to merely accept my caresses. He managed to turn in the saddle just enough to draw my lips to his, and gave me a kiss better suited to our bedchamber than to a public homecoming. It didn’t help that I responded in kind, drawing more of his laughter. “Hmm. You did miss me.”

“I did, _a’maelamin_. Oh, how I did.”

“ _Amrâlimê_.” As Kíli gazed into my eyes, a faint tension left his body – he’d missed me just as much. “I thought of you almost every second I was gone. But I’m back, now.”

“Good. All went well?”

Kíli sighed with satisfaction as he turned back around, got Míriel well settled before him, and took up Trellennan’s reins. As the horse resumed his walk forward, Kíli said, “The gold is gone. Crumbled into so many very tiny bits that a hawk couldn’t see a one of them if it were held up in front of its beak. It is well gone.”

I nestled Kíli to my chest, hardly hearing his words, so glad was I to feel his body against mine, even if it was armored. “So it is. And you are well returned to a hero’s welcome.”

“A smith’s welcome only. I am not a hero.”

“Of course you are, Kíli,” I squeezed him in my arms, and put my lips to his ear. “You are mine.”

Those ears burned bright red, but he didn’t have a chance to reply as Elves streamed out to greet us. The Orc Spawn were in the lead – Lindir grinning widely unlike his usual quiet self, Tethrandil offering a wave of welcome greeting, and of course Giriel in full ululation, pulling Rhiannel behind her at a run. Kíli waved and returned his own war cry. Before him, Míriel kicked and warbled, once again convinced that all the fuss was for her.

“About time you found your way back here, Dwarf!” Giriel yelled. “What took you so long?”

“I didn’t have you along to help me dole out the gold, Elf!” Kíli yelled back. “Instead, you sat back here eating cream pastries and playing with my bairn!”

“And loving every moment of it!” Giriel laughed. “I’ve eaten so many cream pastries that there isn’t a single one left for you to throw!”

“Oh, now, that’s harsh!” Kíli mock complained. “I’ll have to ask Legolas for some of his orange syrup cakes, then! Oh, greetings, Lord Elrond, and King Thranduil. Gandalf and I have scattered all the gold far and wide, and have returned to tell you that we didn’t see a single Orc or spider, which was quite gratifying and made for a much less exciting journey.”

The two lords returned Kíli’s bow as I slid off Trellennan’s rump. “That is excellent news, and an excellent completion to a long trial,” Lord Elrond said.

“A long trial we are most grateful to you and Gandalf for undertaking,” the king followed, as I took Míriel from Kíli. “You are very welcome back.”

Kíli alit from Trellennan, and offered a deep bow. “Thank you, my lords. I’m very glad to be back.”

Elves came to take Trellennan and Gandalf’s mount off to the stables, so Kíli took up his baggage to walk with us back inside the cavern. As we passed inside, many of the Woodland Elves spoke to him and offered bows, which Kíli had not expected. He answered the greetings with his own murmurs and bows, until we came to the corridor to the guest suites, where they left us with waves and smiles. When we walked to our sitting room, Kíli was thoughtful.

“This must be what it’s like to be a king – someone takes your horse, and everyone smiles and nods and waves at you just for walking down a corridor.”

“You did not just walk down a corridor,” I assured him. “You and Gandalf returned from a valiant effort.”

“We wandered around and buried little bits of gold here and there under the leaves,” he grinned. “I felt like a squirrel.”

“You do look like one,” Giriel came up behind us to snicker. “Small, very fuzzy on one end –”

“The end with the brains,” Kíli completed the old joke with a rude poke of his tongue. “Valar, Giriel, you’re as bad as my brother when it comes to compliments.”

“I am well complimented, then,” she shot back. “From this point on, I will honor that noble Dwarf as often as possible.”

The rest of the Orc Spawn came in after Giriel, all wanting to know about Kíli’s two days in the forest. There was little to say about his time there, nor much to add about ours, so our friends soon let Kíli go to take a much-needed bath. Tonight there would be a court supper to welcome the wizard and my husband back from their journey, and though many Dwarves might think Kíli clean, he did not.

“Has my Dwarvish husband come to savor the pleasures of cleanliness, then?” I teased, when we shut the door on our friends.

Kíli dropped his leaf mail on the chair by the door, and stripped off his tunic to stand bare-chested in the middle of the room. With his braids falling over his shoulders, and the rest of his hair falling down his back, he was a rousing sight. The intent look in his eyes was just as compelling.

“I’ll come, and so will you, just as soon as I can turn on the taps, strip you naked, and haul you into the bath with me. There won’t be anything clean about it. I’ve missed you for two days.”

A plaintive chirp sounded at Kíli’s boots. Míriel grabbed hold of Kíli’s trews with both hands to haul herself up. Kíli’s intent look vanished into a wince, which made me laugh for all that I would rather have indulged both of us. Míriel held herself on her feet with one hand as she held the other one up to Kíli.

“Up, Tada? Up?”

Kili’s resistance crumbled into a resigned yet affectionate chuckle. He stooped beside her, one hand on her waist to steady her. “Míriel, you can’t interrupt a lad when he propositions a maid. It makes him look bad.”

“It makes you look just as delectable as anything else does,” I said, crossing my arms and regarding the pair of them fondly.

“Oh and oh, Miri, your Mami says I’m delectable,” he giggled. “Can you give Mami a kiss for saying such a wonderful thing?”

Míriel turned to look at me consideringly, then back at Kíli, then back at me again. With great aplomb, she took a step away from Kíli, then another, and with a great look of concentration on her face, toddled towards me. Astonished, I dropped to my knees in time to catch her outstretched hands when she reached me. “Míriel! You’re walking!”

“Ga,” she said with great dignity, as if she knew what she’d done. She pressed her lips against my cheek, and regarded me with satisfaction.

“Would you like to give Tada a kiss, too?” I invited. “He’s missed you terribly for two whole days.”

Whereupon Míriel toddled back to Kíli to give him the same grave kiss she’d given me. Kíli’s face was awash with delight and awe.

“I can’t believe it! Our bairn’s walking? You are, aren’t you? Míriel, you’re walking now!” Kíli enveloped our daughter in a big hug, laughing and grinning at her.

Míriel squirmed in his arms. “No, Tada, no! Smell!”

That dissolved Kíli into paroxysms of hilarity. “Oh and oh and oh, you silly bairn, of course I smell! I’m a Dwarf! We always smell!”

“I think that is the most blatant invitation to get in the bath that I’ve heard since your mother left,” I grinned. “Come, Míriel, let Tada get into the bath and scrub. Then he will not offend your tiny little nose.”

“Come talk with me, then,” he asked. “Unless I can persuade you to get in with me.”

It took no persuasion to get both Míriel and me into Kíli’s bath, though we let him scrub the worst of the grime off before we clambered in with him. Míriel was happy to sit between us and slap the waves and bubbles we made for her, and try to grab the fingers we wiggled at her in and out of the water.

“If Troli were in our company, he could make Míriel a whole fleet of little boats to sail in the tub,” Kíli observed. “Dwarflings don't have such things, as we don't have such large bathing tubs, but maybe Elflings do? Toys for the bath?”

“I didn’t,” I shook my head. “But my parents bathed me in a small basin, not such a large tub, as I remember. I had small animals to play with outside of the bath, like Míriel’s. And someone made me a squeaky ball. That’s how I knew to make one for Míriel.”

We played in the water until it grew chill, and then climbed out to dry and dress. We’d spent so long in the tub that supper was not far off, so we decided it was better to keep Míriel well awake and exercised with the hope that she’d be ready to contemplate her toes early in the evening, and leave us with time to indulge ourselves. We encouraged Míriel to walk back and forth several more times, in anticipation of showing her auntie and uncles her new accomplishment before supper. In fact, she impressed the Orc Spawn with her new skill straightaway, walking into the sitting room with just one hand on Kíli’s knee to steady herself. Giriel made much of her, tempting her to venture away from Kíli’s side with a crumb of roll. Of course, when Rhiannel and Teth appeared in anticipation of supper, Míriel had to repeat her trick.

Good. She would be well ready to contemplate her toes shortly after supper.

Tonight was the first court supper the king had held since the trouble with Finlor began. Consequently, everyone had on their best clothes – though there were far fewer jeweled rings and brooches. It was true that the air was much lighter, and the laughter less forced. Legolas still avoided the flitter-wit maids, but several others of more depth were in attendance tonight, and the prince seemed at ease with them. Kíli and I snickered quietly about the number of maids who attended Lord Elrond, as well as our friends Lindir and Teth. Lindir seemed a bit stunned at the attention, but our Teth was at home, listening courteously, or speaking with consideration. I thought King Thranduil teased Lord Elrond a bit about the amount of attention the high lord garnered from the maids. They were both quite decorous, but I still was amused. Male and female were no different anywhere, it seemed no matter the class, no matter the race.

The food was delicious as usual, though the menu reminded me yet again of how much time had passed. Summer was gone and autumn was full upon us, for the dishes were hearty fare, warm soups, thick bread with lots of butter, sliced venison, and full, deep, red wines. I didn’t think we’d get over the Misty Mountains before winter was upon us. But I kept that to myself. Kíli would have enough to think about in making the treaty between the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains and the Elves of the Woodland Realm.

In the middle of the supper, King Thranduil made a gracious announcement recognizing the end to Finlor’s treachery, and thanking the folk from Imladris for their unstinting help. In addition, the king made Gandalf and Kíli Elf Friends to acknowledge their extraordinary efforts for the Woodland Realm. Gandalf looked pleased, and if Kíli was not entirely sure of what being made an Elf Friend was, he was very appreciative.

Later on, we came back to our sitting room with the Orc Spawn, Lord Elrond, and Gandalf, to renew our friendship as we usually did each eve. Míriel demonstrated her walking to the high lord and wizard, but she yawned so mightily that she unbalanced herself and sat down with an abrupt thump. She was ready for contemplation shortly after, so Kíli and I were glad to retreat with her. We had more than our babe’s weariness to consider. We had our own anticipation to savor, as well as an ambassadorial one. Tomorrow, at long last, Kíli and Thranduil would meet to begin work on the treaty between Elves and Dwarves.

“So tell me, maid,” Kíli said, looking back at me as he tucked Míriel’s blanket around her. “What is an Elf Friend? Is it better than being your _a’maelamin_?”

I sat on the corner of the bed to ease off my boots. “That depends. Being my _a’maelamin_ means you have my regard like no other. Being an Elf Friend means that all Elves recognize your friendship to our folk, and honor you for it. No Elf will treat you as an outsider or an enemy.”

Kíli rose from Míriel’s cradle, pulled off his boots, and then padded to me. He put his broad hands on my shoulders, massaging them gently. “Hmm. How exactly are Elves supposed to know that? Will I have to get another tattoo, or wear a medal, or some such thing?”

I widened my knees and put my hands on Kíli’s hips to ease him closer. “No tattoo needed. Or a medal. All Elves will just know.”

“‘Just know?’” Kíli repeated. “How do they ‘just know?’”

I chuckled. “In the same way that some Elves know what your father is. They just know.”

“Did the king do something to me, then? Did I miss it?”

I shook my head. “It just happens. I can tell that it has. But I don’t know how it has.”

He hummed a bit more. “Magic. That must be what it is. Magic.”

“I do not know if it is magic or not.”

“Well, it’s very nice, and an honor, and so forth. But I prefer being your _a’maelamin_. That is the best kind of ‘very nice and an honor’ of all. It’s the kind of magic I like the best.”

“Show me.”

He stroked my hair, and pressed a kiss on top of it. He drew up my hand, and pressed another kiss on the inside of my wrist. “Oh, _amrâlimê_ , how I love to hear you say that.”

How I loved when he suited actions to words, and I responded in kind. It was fitting to end our two-day separation with such tenderness.

Then again, the heat of our attentions was so intense that it resulted in another kind of tenderness shortly thereafter. It was good that cavern walls were so thick.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. At long, long last, it's time to write a treaty. Compared to all that's happened in the past two weeks, it's a definite relief to sit down and talk about something positive. So get out your forest maps and call in the stone masons!
> 
> Once the treaty's done, it's time for feasting, and presents, and speeches. Will Kili and Tauriel get their three days in the garden? And will Miriel have the last word when she and Thranduil have a talk?
> 
> Enjoy our friends' last days in the Woodland Realm. There will be laughter, anticipation, excitement... and a little sadness, too.

Compared to the frantic events of the last two weeks, today’s undertakings were much more sedate and civilized – we finally began work on the treaty between the Blue Mountain Dwarves and the Elves of the Woodland Realm. The setting for our discussion, I was elated to discover, was the _Glawar-galad_. Not only would we have a relaxed setting in which to work, but we’d also make much faster progress here than in the main part of the cavern. This was not a concession to a Dwarf who wanted to get business settled and head home, though I did want it settled, and I did want to head home. Rather, it was a concession to Lord Elrond.

Our journey from Imladris had taken three weeks, and we’d been two weeks here. We’d be at least another three going home, which meant Imladris would be without her lord for two months or more, and that was in the best of circumstances. I thought we might already be too late to cross the Misty Mountains before winter set in hard, and would end up seeking refuge with Beorn for the winter, but didn’t argue. If spending however long in a beautiful garden where time passed slowly meant we could finish the treaty and go home in just another couple of days out in the main part of the cavern, then I was for it.

A lot of Elves and I settled around a big table in the middle of a beautiful clearing in the garden to talk, sketch, and talk some more. King Thranduil was there with Legolas, craft masters from stone and woodworking guilds, and scouts familiar with southern Mirkwood. I was there with my advisors – Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and the Orc Spawn. Our table was piled with maps, sketches, my treaties with Imladris and the Beornings for reference, a lot of cups of tea, and plates of buns and cakes. I put forth my proposal about using the Old Forest Road two hundred miles to the south of the cavern, and reminded the Woodland Elves how the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm had built it long ago. King Thranduil nodded as I talked; I wondered if he remembered the building because he’d been there to witness it, or if he’d heard his father, Oropher, speak of it.

“The road is in a sad state,” one of the scouts described. “It has been an age since it was well traveled by either Elves or Dwarves. Until Erebor was retaken, Goblins and Orcs were seen on the road far more than Elves, Dwarves, or Men.”

We first discussed how many Dwarves I expected to emigrate, and whether they would come en masse, or in smaller groups over several years. I thought most would want to come sooner rather than later, but I expected several years to pass before all made the move. It was a big undertaking, after all – folk had to sell homes and goods, and prepare for the long journey according to our leaders’ direction. My mother and the other counselors would require everyone to travel either on foot or aback ponies and rams, for wagons full of household goods could not make the passage over the Misty Mountains. It would be a hard trial for some Dwarves to give up their hard-earned homes, their treasures, their few heirlooms. But it would be an even harder one to carry too much across Eregion, only to be forced to abandon them in Imladris.

We spent much more time on the logistics of repairing the road. My mother would send Dwarvish stoneworkers and bridge builders, and the warriors to protect them, in the first wave of émigrés. They would work on the road from west to east, through the forest, then head north along the edge of the forest to reach Esgaroth and then Erebor. The scouts knew where the swamps began at the end of the original road, and we spent time plotting a route to skirt them safely.

Another topic of conversation was the help we needed from Thranduil’s folk to keep the Dwarves on the correct path while in the forest, both during construction and once the road was done and émigrés streamed forth. It had been my mother’s idea to provide warriors in addition to the stone workers and masons, to provide a standing guard that could escort groups of émigrés through Mirkwood. They would work with the Elves to learn the route, identify the dangers, and know how to respond accordingly. That meant the Elves didn’t have to provide a large presence that would take away from their needs near the cavern, and it allowed Dwarves to take charge of our folk to keep them in hand – Dwarves needed a knock to the head at times, and better that our own administered that than Elves. There were plans for a garrison house with stables, a quarry, and watch posts along the route. In truth, there were many, many things to consider.

Throughout it all, I was grateful to have such wise advisors beside me. It was one thing to have good intentions and try to deal fairly, but it was another to understand how complex an undertaking this was. I was glad to have Elves who knew me to explain the Elves’ sensitive points to me, or to explain the Dwarves’ sensitive points to King Thranduil. Despite the king’s easier demeanor with me, he was still cautious and concerned about his own folk, but I understood that, and he kept his word to be as direct and honest as I was. In truth, we would have been hard pressed to deal with each other so well without the crisis of the past two weeks that had required us to work so closely together against a common enemy.

Tethrandil’s expertise with Elvish commerce helped me understand the logistics of building this road, and supplying the émigrés who would use it. Lindir’s thoroughness came into play repeatedly, as he thought of something we had overlooked or needed to fully address a problem. Rhiannel’s quiet consideration of a problem from many angles often helped defuse a misunderstanding, merely by restating a problem so that I understood it better, or the king did. Surprisingly, Giriel was very good at simplifying one complex problem into several smaller, more manageable ones, and helped us replace vague words with clear ones. Tauriel helped with her intimate knowledge of the forest and its dangers, and her understanding of how the guard worked in both Imladris and the Woodland Realm. The Woodland masters and scouts explained all we need to know how much work was ahead of us and how best to get it done. Lord Elrond and King Thranduil made sure that all matters of statecraft were properly addressed. And Gandalf blessed the whole affair with a benevolent smile.

In a week, the talking was done, and we had a plan that was fair to both sides, and well laid out as to what needed doing, by whom, and when. My mother would appreciate that King Thranduil did not ask to exact a toll for the Dwarves’ passage. I’d earned that when I’d put my knife between Finlor’s ribs before he could slice the king’s throat.

I read over the final agreement with a mixture of regret and anticipation, for my work would not end when I signed it. Next spring, when the first Blue Mountain stonemasons arrived in Imladris and the weather allowed, I would lead them over the Misty Mountains and south of Beorn’s lands to begin their work on the road. It seemed that I had done too good a job of assuring King Thranduil of my good intentions, for he trusted me now, and wanted me on the job to keep things running smoothly between his folk and mine. That meant either time away from Imladris and my family, or another few months of nomad life in a tent for the three of us. It wouldn’t be so bad, though – if my mother were true to form, she’d arrive in that first group of stonemasons, and between the two of us, we’d keep both sides in order.

We signed the agreement with great fanfare, not under the spreading points of the Antlered Throne as I expected, but in the main hall, where the Woodland folk could watch en masse. Lord Elrond and Gandalf signed the treaty as the most exalted of witnesses, and we had a great feast.

The king threaded his way through the crowd at the feast, seeking me out as I sat with Tauriel and Míriel to watch the dancers. I rose to offer King Thranduil a bow, which he accepted with a nod as he sat beside us.

“I thank you for your efforts to bring our treaty to a satisfactory conclusion,” he began.

“You are welcome, King Thranduil, and I thank you for the same. I’m pleased that it benefits both our folk, and makes a good basis for us to continue a successful alliance.”

“I would like to offer you a token of my personal thanks for many things, Kíli,” the king went on. “I know you have said that jewels are not something you hold much stock in. What would speak more to you?”

“I’d still like those three days in the _Glawar-galad_ ,” I said after consideration.

King Thranduil waved a dismissive hand. “Of course. The token I would like to bestow is in addition to that.”

“Oh, I see. Well, that’s very nice of you, King Thranduil. I wouldn’t be adverse to an emerald or two for Tauriel, if that’s not too much to ask.”

“Easily done, and gladly. But is there nothing you’d like for yourself?”

I thought about it. “You know, I’d like the mithril box that the dreamflower necklace came in, just as a memento. Or if you want that, maybe you would choose a plant for me from the _Glawar-galad_. Our friends have all brought us things for our garden in Imladris, and I’d like to include something from you and the Woodland Realm, so I could look on it and think fondly of my time here.”

The king nodded. “The box is rightly yours, as you and Tauriel found it. As for the plant, I’d be delighted to select one for you. I will see that it is well packed, so that it is protected against the snows of the Misty Mountains.”

“That’s perfect, and most gracious of you. I thank you for the gift, my lord.”

King Thranduil’s smile was the warmest expression I’d seen him wear. He was still the epitome of perfection with his brilliant white hair, pale skin, and impeccable robes, with the most elegant of blades, Needle and Icicle, at his sides. But it was a warmer perfection now, and a vast improvement on his earlier frost. As he rose from his chair, Tauriel and I did, too.

“I will see to your plant, Kíli, and the emeralds for Tauriel. And perhaps something for Míriel as well?”

“Thran,” was Míriel’s response, but she smiled as she said it.

“King Thran,” Tauriel corrected patiently, with an apologetic smile to the king. To my surprise, however, the king smiled indulgently.

“Perhaps that is a good gift for both you and me, Míriel,” he said, cocking his head to the side as he considered her. “You may call me Thran, if I may call you Miri.”

“Yes,” Míriel chirped.

Tauriel gasped, but I laughed. “The little minx seems to know a lot more about what’s said around her than she lets on.”

“She is a wise maid, and reveals herself only when it suits her,” the king replied, taking the hand that Míriel held out to him. “Until later, then Miri. It has been most refreshing to talk with you.”

He took himself back to the feast, leaving Tauriel and me to consider Míriel.

“I pity the lad who tries to bluster his way past our little maid,” I said at last, as Míriel pretended to ignore us by sampling another bite of cake.

Tauriel snickered. “I pity the lad who tries to bluster his way past you to get to our little maid. You will not suffer fools any more than she will.”

I grinned. “I do like a good brawl now and again, and so do you. The poor lad will wilt with just a single glance from you, my fierce warrior Elf maid.”

“We mustn’t discourage them all, Kíli, or else Míriel will never move out of our house.”

“I won’t mind that for a while,” I returned. “Now, do you want to savor the party some more, or can we slip out for our three days in the _Glawar-galad_?”

“I’m quite ready for the garden.”

“Let’s pay our respects, then.”

We gathered up Míriel and her bag of things, and found Lord Elrond. He was talking with several of the Woodland Realm Elves, including several maids, which gave Tauriel and me a smile as we approached. We made our excuses, told him we were off for our promised time in the garden, and assured him that we’d be back in good time to see him at breakfast, when we’d plan our journey home. We found the king again long enough to thank him for the feast, and then we were off.

The garden was softly dark when we ventured in, silent but for our footsteps. We found our trysting chamber, and arranged Míriel in her cradle. When she’d settled, we left the door to our chamber open and went out on the porch to sit overlooking the garden. One of the portals that let in the sunlight was visible between the treetops, and stars filled it. As I slid over on the bench to nestle beside Tauriel, I sensed the starlight streaming down to restore her as sleep did me. I considered, but felt nothing other than what I usually felt when I looked up at the stars – a sense of wonder, of far-away beauty, but no refreshment that I could tell. I refused to take anything from that; I’d already promised myself to think only of what we had now, and not regret or anticipate or wish for anything that might come. I was already the most fortunate of Dwarves, and would not spoil that grasping for more.

“I will be glad to see the stars in the open air again,” Tauriel murmured, twining her arm around mine to clasp my hand. “Not only will it be a grand sight, but it will also mean that we are returning home.”

“We’ll see it in just a day or so, once we get back into the main cavern,” I said. “It’s no sure thing we’ll get over the Misty Mountains, though. We may be too late in the year.”

“Perhaps so, in which case we will have to prevail upon Beorn to offer us tent space in his meadow until spring. While that would not be terrible by any means, I would prefer to sit by our own fire in Imladris.”

“So would I. Let’s hope for good weather, and swift passage. But that’s tomorrow – or three days from now, for us. For tonight, I want to remind you of how much I love you. Then tomorrow, I want to find our runes again, and search for the rare slipper flowers by the waterfall, and show you the softest moss garden where a fiery Elf maid might couple with a dark Dwarf.”

“I want all of those things, too,” Tauriel breathed, so I slid over her lap in the twilight, unfastened her fine silken tunic, and untied her gossamer silk underthings to reveal her pale breasts. I bent to kiss them gently, feeling a jolt of arousal all over when her breath caught in the faintest of gasps. Her fingers found my tunic laces at neck and wrists, and slid the fine linen off my shoulders. Her fingers stroked my chest, my nipples, teasing a gasp out of me that echoed hers –

“Mami? Tada?”

My head shot up, looking over Tauriel’s shoulder. There stood Míriel in the doorway, rubbing her eyes and looking apprehensively out at us.

“Oh, _miz barathar curp_ ,” I muttered. “There are two more reasons to want to go home.”

“A room of her own, and a lock on our bedchamber door,” Tauriel added, shaking with silent laughter. “Else we will never have another moment to ourselves.”

“We should have brought a nurse for the bairn,” I agreed, sighing. I stole a kiss, which was promptly stolen back. “I’ll see if I can coax her back into her cradle.”

I shrugged my shirt back on, stoked Tauriel’s cheek, and padded to Míriel. “We’re right here, little jewel. It’s time for you to rest, just like Mami and Tada. Come on, back to the cradle.”

“Want Troli.”

“What, did Troli’s doll fall out of your cradle? Come on, then. I’ll find her, and tuck her in extra carefully so she’s right next to you. There, here’s your playmate, tucked right next to you, and here’s your favorite blanket tucked in all around. She won’t fall out this time.”

I kissed the top of Míriel’s head, sang her a breathy lullaby until her eyes crossed, and straightened – only to find Tauriel in the doorway, regarding me with a smile.

“You are the best of Tadas,” she observed.

I pulled my tunic over my head, tossed it on the bed, and crossed to her to take her hands. “I’m the swiftest to offer my wife whatever pleases her, too, before the bairn rouses again.”

Tauriel grinned. “You know what happens when you please me so quickly. It requires a second rising.”

I grinned. “Just two? You know that a Dwarf’s good for more than that, but if you insist...”

Tauriel backed me to the bed until I had to sit on the edge or fall down. She knelt before me, and slowly took off her tunic and underthings. “I have a long list of things I intend to insist upon.”

In deference to our contemplating bairn, we were quiet. But in deference to ourselves, we were thorough. It had been a long three weeks, after all, and deserved a suitable celebration.

 

* * *

 

In the morn, Kíli and I found the _Glawar-galad_ quiet but for the sound of the waterfall, and a few birds. There was none of the bustle of the past several days as we’d worked on Kíli’s treaty, and the lateness of the season had sent most of the birds south to warmer climes. The waterfall, however, was still at full roar as it plunged into the pool below. After a foray into the larder for breakfast, we sat with Míriel by that pool to enjoy our rolls and fruit. Then we walked at our leisure among the beds and rocks to find the rare flowers that Kíli liked. They looked like tiny shoes, too small even for Míriel’s little feet, and were mostly greens and browns, though my favorite was pink and white and glowed against the dark green of its leaves. We revisited the _athelas_ beds that had so impressed the Woodland Realm apothecaries two years ago, and a few of the mirrors that Kíli had refinished to return the light to the garden. To our delight, we found that the Dwarvish runes Kíli had carved into the cavern wall for me were still in place, if shadowed by the porch that had been rebuilt in front of all the trysting chambers. Not only were they still in place, but also they had been framed with a carved garland of flowers and vines. Given that Kíli had carved his runes right under the entrance to the king’s chamber, I would have understood if the runes had been removed. But King Thranduil seemed to have taken a more indulgent approach, and so had left the signs in place.

As Kíli and I walked with Míriel in the garden where we had first bonded, it seemed that every step we took was tinged with finality. Even in this protected cocoon, the leaves of the trees were turning, and the tenderer plants were fading as they prepared to sleep through the winter. It was unlikely that we would return here, for too great a distance stretched between the Woodland Realm and Imladris to make for easy visits. Perhaps Kíli felt the same thing, for his eyes returned to mine again and again as we walked. Even when Kíli stripped bare and waded into the pool to remind me of how he’d teased me two years ago, he seemed subdued. But likely it was only my own thoughts that cast such a fleeting tinge on everything. So much had happened since a young Dwarf had teased an equally young Elf maid into a furtive, secretive kiss. So much more awaited us. This was that rare moment of pause, of reflection, where what had come before seemed so simple, and what had ensued was much more complex. The former was more innocent, and the latter was richer, but both were sweet.

I held silence about the nature of my reflections, as Kíli held an equal silence about his. But I knew his and mine had followed the same path, because our indulgences during the day and through the night, as our consideration for Míriel allowed, were particularly tender, rather than our usual playful, erotic teasing. In the morning, I caught Kíli’s eye over breakfast.

“Kíl –”

“Taur –”

We’d both spoken at the same time. I laughed, and so did Kíli, and Míriel looked around at us as she wandered over the grass.

“Go ahead, _a’maelamin_.”

“No, I interrupted you, _amrâlimê_ , so you go ahead.”

“All right. I know we’ve been here not even two days...”

Kíli’s smile was both relieved and triumphant. “I knew it! You felt it, too. That it’s time to go home.”

I nodded. “It is. I’m sorry –”

“No, no, Tauriel! Don’t be sorry. Don’t be at all, _amrâlimê_. Because I want to go home more than anything. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“Of course not. I thought you might be, because you’ve said all along how you wanted your three days here, to see the flowers and our runes –”

“But we’ve done that, haven’t we? Our runes are still here, with a nice carving about them, and the rare flowers are just as amazing, and the pool is just as cold, so we’ve done all that we wanted, haven’t we?”

“We have, Kíli. We have, and now I want to go home. If at all possible, I want to get us over the Misty Mountains before spring, so we can spend the winter in front of the fire in the sitting room, complaining about how cold the plain is west of the city, playing Orc battles with the guard, and letting Míriel careen about the house scattering cake crumbs. That’s what I want most.”

Kíli grabbed me in the biggest hug I could have imagined. He kissed me with exuberance, but the caress was messy because he was laughing so much. “Oh and oh, and oh, maid, you are the light of the sun and the moon and the stars, and I love you for it. Let’s finish breakfast, see if Míriel will let us indulge one last time in this beautiful place, and then go home.”

We managed the indulgence, barely, but it had to be a stealthy, surreptitious one under the blankets while Míriel played with her toys on the floor beside us. I hoped this would be the last time we had to be so circumspect. When we got home, we’d see to that lock on the bedchamber door with all haste. We packed our few scant things, took Míriel in hand, and came out on the porch for the last time. We said our farewells, and left the cavern by the service door to the larder.

Kíli’s last homage to the _Glawar-galad_ was to help himself to a handful of buns from the larder, in memory of how often he’d raided it two years ago. Grinning, he passed me one, and we munched in companionable silence as we walked back to our guest suite.

 

* * *

 

It was still some hours before dawn when we tiptoed back to our room in the guest suite. I took the time to snatch a quick nap before everyone gathered for breakfast, and then got up for good solid scrub in the tub with Míriel. Depending on how fast we’d be ready to ride west, this might be my last good scrub for a while. Tauriel joined us with the same idea in mind, for she oiled her hair carefully in preparation. The Orc Spawn were already at breakfast when we had Míriel dressed and ready, but they greeted us with glad words. It was clear that they were as eager to ride home as we were. Lindir came in before we’d eaten everything, asking us to join Lord Elrond and Gandalf in the high lord’s suite, so we streamed behind the aide, most of us still munching on something. We came into Lord Elrond’s suite to find him and the wizard busy with their meal.

“Welcome, and good morn, _mellonea nin_!” Lord Elrond waved to us. “You all look well today. Kíli and Tauriel, I hope your three days in the _Glawar-galad_ were most enjoyable.”

Tauriel and I looked at each other and smiled. No one needed to know that we’d been too homesick to stay but the two days. “Very enjoyable, my lord,” was all we said.

“Excellent. I trust that all of you are well ready to travel home.”

The chorus of emphatic agreement that met that observation was substantial.

“I thought so. I, too, am ready for the sights of home. I suggest you pack your things today, and consider what if anything needs replacing. I would prefer to leave at first light tomorrow, but if there are important things we need to replace first, I will delay another day. It is urgent that we leave as soon as can be, so that we have the best chance of crossing the Misty Mountains before the snows pile too deeply. King Thranduil has most generously offered to replace our provisions, and that will be underway today. Captain Helmia will see to our horses, but if there are items you want to see to yourself, do so today. Let us meet at luncheon to assess our progress.”

Everyone scattered without delay, leaving Lord Elrond and Gandalf to smile at each other alone.

“What needs doing first?” I asked Tauriel as we hurried back to our suite.

“I want to wash the last of Míriel’s clothes, and your tunics,” was Tauriel’s assessment. "We will have to carry a sack of dirty diapers soon enough, but we don’t have to start out with one!”

Everyone was chattering as excitedly as we were, so our suite was soon busy with Elves trotting back and forth, calling to one another, consulting, considering, and generally being giddy. I hoped that the Woodland Elves didn’t take offence at our gaiety, for we meant no disrespect – we just wanted to go home! Tauriel and I littered the bathing chamber with drying clothing, and stoked the fires throughout our suite to the utmost to get everything dried before the morning. I mended all of our torn items, ducked down to check on our horses, packed away the precious copies of all three of my treaties, and sharpened my blades. Except for our drying clothes, we had everything in order.

At luncheon, Helmia joined us to report that all was in good shape for the guardsmen, riding mounts, and pack horses. The Woodland guard had supplied what few items we needed, and the stores had put supplies by for us that were light to carry, yet sustaining. The Orc Spawn were ready, and so were Gandalf and Lord Elrond. So we would share one more supper with the Woodland Realm, and then be on our way – in good company, it seemed. King Thranduil understood our need to travel quickly, and would send a contingent of the Woodland guard with us to get us over the Enchanted River with much less effort than we’d had to expend on our trip east, and see us to the edge of Mirkwood. The king himself planned to ride with us, in hopes of renewing his acquaintance with Beorn.

“Excellent!” I murmured to Tauriel as Lord Elrond talked. “No more gigantic river shrimp trying to eat Giriel as an appetizer!”

That night at supper, we said good-bye to the many friends and acquaintances we’d made in our stay, and enjoyed the usual excellent fare. When we’d eaten our fill, King Thranduil brought out the presents he’d prepared for all of us.

Each of the Orc Spawn – Rhiannel, Giriel, Teth, Tauriel, Lindir, and me – was given a long knife of the same single-piece steel construction as Needle and Icicle. They were grand blades, well balanced, and beautifully made.

Lindir became the proud owner of a magnificent book of tales, with a gemmed and enameled leather binding, gilded edges, and the most beautiful colored illustrations I’d ever seen. Between being called an Orc Spawn, receiving the knife, and then getting the book, our poor aide was quite overwhelmed.

Giriel received the diadem that I had made, which delighted me. Rhiannel received a set of weights and balances, and Teth received a delicately carved chess set of green and white onyx.

Tauriel received a beautiful necklace of cabochon emeralds set in green gold, which was stunning on her. They were perfectly matched stones, and the gold work was expert. I was quite touched at his generosity.

Little Míriel received a box of ten deep red garnets, which I would hold until she grew older, and then fashion into something to suit her.

I received not one, but three well-shrouded pots, and several packets of seeds. What plants the pots held was to be a surprise, so I accepted them with a big smile and a deep bow. “They’ll have pride of place in my garden, my lord,” I assured the king. And that would be so, if I could get them over the mountains safely.

Gandalf received a new pipe and large supply of pipeweed, which delighted him immensely, and a new pair of sturdy black boots. That made me laugh. The wizard was another who had no use for gold and gems over practical things. Gold did not keep anyone warm in the depths of winter.

The last gifts were for Lord Elrond. The high lord received beautiful adamants, exquisite in their own right, but also a token of esteem, for they were the king’s favorite gems by far. The king also proffered a fine silk banner embroidered with the green leaf crest of Mirkwood and the crest of Lord Elrond’s house. In the center was a flourishing green tree, nourished by the waterfalls of Imladris. It was a lovely thing, and the embroiderers must have worked for days in some corner of the _Glawar-galad_ to complete it. It would hang proudly in Lord Elrond’s receiving room to remind all who saw it of the friendly ties between kingdoms.

Now that all the crises were done, and with departure upon us, a lot of pretty words followed the giving of gifts, but all were sincerely and deeply meant. Despite the hard work and the evil we’d fought, I would remember this visit with satisfaction.

Just before we said goodnight for the last time, I edged my way to the king’s side.

“Um, my lord?” I asked softly.

He bent his inquiring gaze upon me. “Yes, Kíli?”

“I just wanted to say in relative privacy, my lord, that I forgive you for trying to assassinate me. I hope it wasn’t personal, just a political maneuver, which I understand.”

He actually gaped at me. Maybe I’d surprised him so much that he wanted to laugh, or maybe he thought my words were ridiculous. But I didn’t want to leave the cavern with a grudge, and it seemed the right thing to dump the burden at his door rather than at my own. After some seconds of thought, though, the king rallied enough to offer me a deep bow.

“You are the most startling Dwarf I have ever met, Kíli son of Durin. Would that you were on the throne of Erebor instead of your cousin.”

I winced. “Oh and oh, don’t wish that on me, my lord. I’m not suited for it, and the Valar know I’ve got enough Elf about me to give the lot in Erebor a right lot of pain. Better I’m where I am with Erebor no more the wiser, where I can do more for both my folk than I could in Erebor.”

“Perhaps so. You have certainly done much for my folk, and me, as well. I thank you. When I deal with Erebor, I will hold my knowledge of the younger sister’s son of Thorin Oakenshield to myself.”

“That’s a kindness and then some, my lord. I thank you. I wish you a good night.”

“And you.”

I offered a last bow, and then found Tauriel and Míriel to retire for the night – our last night in the cavern of the Woodland Realm.


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all.
> 
> Well, my dears, we are at the end of the tale. 'Nuff said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:
> 
> Tenna' ento lye omenta = until next we meet  
> Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au = my heart shall weep until it sees thee again

When morn came, the sky was more overcast than sunny, and the breeze was more chill than warm. No matter. We were going home! Kíli’s grin alone was bright enough to make up for the intermittent sun, and the Orc Spawn’s anticipation warmed better than the thickest fleece.

If my sentiments were more measured, it was because I might not ever see the place of my birth again. I was neither sad nor glad, nor had my longing for my home in Imladris grown or shrunk. This was merely one of those moments of reflection where I realized that the world was not static; it did change, and would continue to do so. Chance often came thus – abruptly, shockingly, after long periods of sameness. This change was not so shocking, and it was something I embraced. But I still reflected on what had come before, and what might have been, and what was still to come. I might leave the Woodland Realm behind, but it would be a happier place henceforth.

Perhaps pensiveness had fallen on me because I’d ventured into my chambers in the king’s apartments for likely the last time. There were a few things that I wanted to take home to Imladris with me – some knives, some favorite comfortable clothes. I had no tokens from my earlier life with my parents, and once I had come to live here, I had been too grief-stricken to indulge in the collection of things. So signs of Tauriel were very few in these chambers. When I had packed the few things I wanted in a small bag, even those few signs were gone. I was relieved to leave, to bid farewell to the kind attendant who had stood watch for so many centuries at the king’s door, and return to my friends, with whom I built more substance.

Not all memories of my former chamber were ambivalent. My last night here had been with my husband and daughter, and it had been happy.

I came back to the Orc Spawn’s guest suite to find my friends bustling too and fro with baggage and bits of breakfast, their conversation animated as they stacked their things by the door in preparation to leave. Míriel was in the middle of the stir, of course, climbing atop the stack of bags, waving her hands and burbling happily when she saw me. Kíli came out of our room hauling a pair of our bags, and smiling a bright greeting.

“ _Amrâlimê_! Did you get everything, or do you need another bag?”

“This one was quite big enough, _a’maelamin_. There were only a few things I wanted.”

“Knives, I bet.”

I grinned at how well Kíli knew me. “Of course, knives.”

“Let’s see them, then.”

I opened the bag and extracted the four blades I’d cached inside. Kíli dropped what he carried on the growing heap and took one of my knives eagerly.

“This one’s a beauty. Wonderful balance, lovely design. Well worn, too.”

“Very well worn,” I conceded with a smile.

“That’s all you brought? Nothing else?” Kíli looked at me with concern.

I shrugged. “You and I are not so different, _a’maelamin_. You were a nomad in truth for much of your life, yes? I wandered just at much in my thoughts. Neither of us accumulated many things.”

Kíli shrugged understanding. “I see it, when you put it that way. So, you won’t need another packhorse, I suppose. That’s just as well. We need another bag to hold all of the things Míriel has suddenly gotten this morn.” He pointed to a small pile of things on one of the settees – clothes, toys, and hair ribbons. “Some of the clothes might be too small, but they’ll be perfect for Drennal and Fallin’s bairn. But this is my favorite.” He held up a pair of furry leggings and a matching coat with a thick hood. “She’ll look like a small furry Warg in this!”

Giriel came by in time to hear Kíli’s chortle. “Our babe, a Warg? Oh, Valar, Kíli, you’re right – she will! And look, there are boots to match!”

Giriel plunged a hand into the pile of things to extract the small boots, and held them up with a laugh to show to Míriel. “Look, Miri! You’ll stay warm over the mountains now, won’t you?”

Míriel took one, gave it a considering look, and tried to chew on it, but I eased it from her before she got a mouthful of fur. “Oh, Míriel, they go on your feet, not in your mouth!”

Kíli snickered. “That’s the Dwarf coming out. Everything looks like food.”

Lindir bustled in. “ _Aaye_ , all! How soon before you are packed?”

“I am already,” Teth said, sticking his head out of his chamber. He hauled his two bags into the sitting room and gave Lindir a wave. “Good morn, Lindir!”

“Rhiannel’s almost done,” Giriel informed the aide. “I am, too.”

“Everything but this pile of presents,” Kíli replied.

“Where did they come from?” I asked

They’ve been appearing since you left,” Kíli said. “Is it an Elvish custom to give parting gifts to bairns?”

“I think it is a mark of the impression our Míriel has made upon the court,” Rhiannel came in with three bags for the pile. “I was here when some of the things arrived. Many will miss her, and so these things came to remind her of her stay in the Woodland Realm.”

“I think some of the maids came to say goodbye to Kíli, too,” Giriel snickered. “What better way to coax a smile from _mellon nin_ than to present him with toys and gowns for his babe?”

Kíli blushed, but he didn’t deny our _osellë’s_ observation. “Elf maids are all mad,” he shook his head. “You’ve got all these tall, stately, elegant Elf lads about you, so what do you see in a short, dark Dwarf? Who’s married, on top of it all?”

“It’s the earrings,” I teased, winking at him. “No Elf maid can resist a dashing corsair.”

“That dashing about, again.” Kíli rolled his eyes, but his smile was pleased as he got an empty bag for Míriel’s gifts. “Why couldn’t I have met some mad Elf maids as a lad when it might have done me some good, rather than now when I’m happily wed? Life would have been much more bearable.”

“It is a conundrum,” Lindir observed with a smile. “Shall I tell Lord Elrond that you are ready to go down to the stable?”

“Just a few moments for me, Lindir,” Kíli said, waving at Míriel’s things. “Tauriel, I think I have everything of ours from our room, but another set of eyes is always welcome.”

“We’ll be ready by then, too, Lindir,” Rhiannel assured our friend, and ducked back into his room to finish packing.

“I will tell him,” Lindir said. “Our guardsmen are on the way to help us carry everything.”

I found our room as empty as I expected. Kíli’s long experience with traveling had made him an efficient and thorough packer. The bathing chamber was empty but for one of Míriel’s tiny socks hidden behind the door, so I snared that and returned to the sitting room to stow it in Míriel’s bag. I helped Kíli pack the last of the presents, and then together all of us scanned everything one last time. All was ready. Several of our guardsmen stepped in to help shoulder the bags, and we took the rest and followed them.

I was the last one to leave the suite, scanning all of the rooms one last time. Imladris was no longer in residence.

“Tauriel? All right?” Kíli asked me softly, when I caught up to him. He was at the back of the group, for he held Míriel’s had as she walked beside him. She would spend most of the next three weeks on horseback, as would the rest of us, and this was the last chance for her to walk until we stopped at luncheon.

I nodded as I took Míriel’s other hand. “All right. It is time to start for home.”

He leaned over Míriel to kiss me. “I hope that leaving here is not too painful.”

“Not painful at all, _amrâlimê_. Home lies ahead, to the west.”

He smiled. “So it does.”

We came soon to the stables, where the guard was already at work harnessing horses, packing bags, and saying goodbye to the friends they’d made in the past days. In deference to Kíli’s height, I saddled both Jalsin and Trellennan while he kept Míriel out of the bustle. A flurry of maids soon alit around him; Giriel had not exaggerated about how many came, ostensibly to say goodbye to Míriel, but in truth to have one more word with my husband. I smothered a grin. It pleased me to see him considered so desirable, for it only emphasized how fortunate I was. He did look handsome in his Imladris armor and livery as he flirted harmlessly with one or two, but he was never less than courteous. If anything, his restraint made him even more desirable to his admirers. He kept one eye on me, and as soon as I came out of Trellennan’s stall, he made his escape.

“Perhaps leaving here will be too painful for you, Kíli,” I observed with a wry grin.

He exhaled gustily. “Oh and oh, we’re not leaving any too soon. Any longer around that lot, and they would’ve tried to put me in a little cage, like a bird or something!”

“I prefer you unrestrained,” I gave him a considering look. “Much more delightful.”

His eyes grew round. “Are – are you... leering at me?”

“I am, indeed, my dark Dwarf.”

He shifted Míriel onto his hip, reached up to put a hand on my nape, and urged me down for a kiss. It was a lusty caress, and his eyes were dancing when it ended. “Valar, maid, you can leer at me any time you like. I might leer back.”

“I look forward to it. But now, to horse.”

“ _Dahaut_ , yah!” he cheered, handing Míriel to me. “And about _skator-u_ time!”

Kíli darted into Trellennan’s stall to scramble atop his horse. I came in after him with Míriel and her new carrier. Once Kíli was astride, I gave him the carrier to strap on. We still had Míriel’s carrying basket, but for now, we had a mostly cloth thing that allowed Míriel to be well secured on Kíli’s back and padded against his armor, but able to look over his shoulder. I helped him seat Míriel comfortably, and let them ride out. I followed on Jalsin to join the line of travelers, and soon we rode out of the cavern.

As we streamed out of the stables and around to the smooth, grassy space that stretched before the main doors of the cavern, we found a crowd of Woodland Elves gathered to see us off. King Thranduil and Legolas were there with their guardsmen, ready to ride with us through the forest. Thankfully, there were no formal speeches, but it took some time for our hosts to stream out to speak parting words to all of the riders, both Imladris and Woodland. Several of my former comrades from the guard came up to bid me farewell, and many came up to the Orc Spawn. Teth, Lindir, and Lord Elrond had several maids’ tokens of a flower or sweet, and Giriel had admirers of both sexes come up to her. Rhiannel and Kíli were not left out, to the extent that I expected Kíli and Míriel to have enough treats to share for half the morning. But at last, the king spoke a few parting words to his folk, Lord Elrond expressed our appreciation to our hosts, and Gandalf offered a gracious farewell. Then we were off. We rode in single file over the bridge, turned back to offer a final wave, and then dove into the forest. The cavern receded behind us, and was soon out of sight.

Once under the trees, the combined party arranged itself with the guard riding before, after, and to either side of the main party – the king and prince, the high lord and wizard, and the Orc Spawn. We set a brisk pace, for we could not delay our crossing over the Misty Mountains if we hoped to get across before the worst winter snows came. Our horses went willingly at speed; they were well rested and eager to be on the move again.

After the initial excitement of getting underway had passed, we settled quickly to the trail. We took a path almost directly west, almost parallel to the Forest River, rather than veering southwest to follow the same path we’d traveled on our outward journey. The Woodland scouts had brought word of a huge tree fallen across the Enchanted River some ten miles upstream from where that poisoned stream joined the Forest River. We would still have work to do to provide a way across for our horses, but the great trunk would provide a good beginning for us. We hoped to reach the tree by nightfall, so we would have all day tomorrow to arrange our crossing.

Our luncheon stop was short, but Míriel was glad to come down from Kíli’s back and toddle around. She had a curious eye, and needed someone to watch her without fail to keep her from sampling leaves, dubious mushrooms, and mealy acorns. She wasn’t truly hungry, not after eating so many of the little tidbits the Woodland Elves had brought her to wish her a safe journey. Still, while I thought pink toadstools looked too venomous for words, Míriel did not. So we were kept busy to keep her safe.

I bore Míriel in the afternoon. She hummed softly to herself, or patted my hair – I had made sure to twine my hair in field braids, to keep it safe from the predations of small hands – or pointed to one thing or another. I thought the enforced confinement might make her fuss, but she liked being able to see over my shoulder, and the constant change of scenery interested her enough to keep her happy.

Dusk had fallen before we reached the fallen tree, but there was just enough light to make it out as it lay across the stream. Fortunately, it had a sizeable stump that had kept it from damming the stream, which would have given us a quagmire to navigate. It would provide a wide path for us to haul baggage, however, and the wealth of broken branches that littered the ground around it would provide the means to build a passage for the horses. I left Kíli with those discussing what to do, and went with Giriel and Lindir to fetch the Orc Spawn’s tent. We found a dry, flat piece of ground on which to pitch it, and set to. In short order, tents rose around us as we worked, and we were soon able to haul our baggage inside and arrange our hearth. Supper tonight would be stew and bread cooked on the common fire, so we didn’t need much of a hearth, but we wanted to have our tea to celebrate the start of our homeward journey. Once we shared our meal with the rest of our comrades, the Orc Spawn retreated to our tent to brew that tea.

“Just like old times!” Kíli exhaled, smiling as he took his small cup from the tray. We had gathered around the hearth, as was our habit before repose. He held up his cup. “To a swift journey, no Orcs or stone giants or goblins, and warm winds over the mountains!”

That met with an enthusiastic response from all of us.

We talked only a little while, sharing out the last of the treats we’d been given as parting gifts. Lindir turned quite red when Kíli and Giriel teased him about the amount of cakes he had to share, but they were gentle about it. Teth had no fewer, but when his friends teased him, he merely smiled in mysterious satisfaction, which drew Kíli’s knowing laughter.

“I’ve seen too many Dwarf lads not to know what that look means,” he chortled. “How many maids did you leave pining for you in the Woodland Realm, then? A dozen?”

“Perhaps two,” Teth shot back without a blink. “It all began after I masqueraded as King Thranduil. I suspect the maids will not miss me long, as the happier countenance of their king will give them something else to pursue.”

We all laughed about that, and as there was no tale to top that one, we soon finished our tea and prepared to rest.

Despite spending all day on the back of her parents, Míriel was ready for repose with the rest of us. Kíli claimed it was all the fresh air and excitement, and though I would hardly call all of Mirkwood’s air fresh, perhaps he was right about the excitement. Kíli lay on his stomach for Míriel to climb over, but even the allure of so much hair to pull didn’t entrance her for long. She settled into her bag of clothes with Troli’s doll and her blanket, and soon had toes in hand. Kíli chuckled to see her as he settled himself for sleep. He drew me close, and pulled our blankets over us. He nestled a tender kiss on my earring, and another on my lips.

“Just twenty more days to go, _amrâlimê_.”

“Just twenty. Sleep well, _a’maelamin_.”

“Sweet repose,” he wished me, and closed his eyes.

His lips curled up into a smile. When I saw it, mine did, too.

 

* * *

 

I awoke early – still excited about heading home, I suppose. Or perhaps I was eager to get started on the way across the Enchanted River. We were far closer to where the foul waterway joined the Forest River; the water was wider and flowed more swiftly than upstream where we had crossed it. At the same time, it was shallower, which I hoped meant we wouldn’t face more of Giriel’s monstrous prawns when we tried to get across. I dressed quickly, for I was the only one in the tent, slurped down the tea my friends had left warming for me, and hastened outside to find breakfast.

Though it was early, and what sun there was in the still-overcast sky was faint, the Elves were already considering the river crossing. I grabbed a handful of rolls and dried meat and headed to where Gandalf, both Elf lords, and the Orc Spawn were gathered. To my surprise, several Elves were rolling huge rounds of tree trunks out from under the trees, righting them onto one of the flat ends, and then dragging them with lines across the river. They had two in place already, with seven more to go. A few horses would have made quick work of them, but as none of the horses could cross over the tree trunk the way the Elves could, we had to do without them. I stripped off my coat to lend a hand, and so did Rhiannel, Giriel, and Tauriel; Teth and Lindir took Míriel in hand for us. Before two hours had passed, the last round was in place.

A thick walkway of tree limbs lashed together went atop the rounds, and anchored in place to the rounds and the fallen tree to make a secure bridge. Then the first horse was led across. This was a far faster and easier way to best the Enchanted River than our ferry, by far! Before, it had taken us a full day and more to cross with a single fallen tree. Today, the remains of several and twice the number of hands had given us passage in four hours. By luncheon, the last horse was across.

Several of the Woodland Elves remained on the other side of the river to dismantle the bridge, after which they would return to the cavern. But they had their horses to speed the dismantling, and by the time we’d eaten they had already removed the walkway of limbs and dragged out the first round. We called and waved our goodbyes, and set out once again.

Our path now angled from west to southwest, so as skirt the few mountains in the heart of Mirkwood. Soon we would angle south-southwest to reach the southernmost border of Beorn’s lands, where we would again head west for the Old Ford, then west-northwest to reach the nearest pass into the mountains. But that was still some days off. First, we had one hundred and fifty miles to travel under the trees. I was glad to be in the company of so many who knew the forest well, who guided us quickly and accurately. The forest was still dizzying, dank, and decaying, to my lights, and not a place I found pleasant. I was thankful that we made excellent time, and so came out from under the trees in seven days, just before dusk.

The Woodland Elves would remain with us for just one more day, before they headed north to the Carrock and Beorn’s house just beyond. I was sorry not to see that wonderful place again, but the season would bear no detours. I still was not convinced that we would make the mountain crossing before spring, but I wanted to try, so put aside my regret with the consolation that missing the delight of Beorn’s home meant that I’d soon savor the delight of mine. For now, it was a pleasure to feel the open air again, and see the sky in its wideness, and smell dry grasses rather than decaying leaves.

As we made our camp, it was my duty to chop the wood for the supper fire, and so had set to. I was north of the rest of our company, at the edge of the forest, chopping the collection of dead wood that the Elves hauled up for me. I looked around me now and again, half hoping to see a certain giant striding near, but I was near out of firewood before Beorn finally appeared. I paused in my chopping to watch him approach, and lifted a hand in welcome.

“Still chopping wood, I see,” the giant said in his deliberate way.

“Yah, you know Elves,” I grinned. “Not an axe among the lot of them.”

I extended my hand, which he took warmly. “It is good to see you again, Kíli.”

“And you, too, Beorn. I’ve brought a few more Elves to visit you, King Thranduil and his son Legolas among them.”

Beorn grunted. “You made your treaty with the pale king, then?”

“I did. Your advice was invaluable. I let him swear at me without batting and eye, and he when he got tired of that, he came around.”

“I imagine there is another tale behind what you say,” he said with an anticipatory smile.

“Right you are, and one you’d better hear before you meet the king. He’s had a change of heart.”

“That _is_ a tale I want to hear,” Beorn said, seating himself on the ground beside me, and so I set to. It took half an hour just to sketch the bare bones, but it was enough for Beorn to appreciate the change in the kingdom. “Hmm. Your telling is scant, but I appreciate why. I will meet the king and prince now, and you can fatten the tale afterwards.”

“Of course. Supper’s coming, too, and that’ll make the telling even better. So let me roust the Elves...”

I got to my feet and looked around, and there were the usual watchers, ready to come forward or retreat as I thought best. I waved to them, and Lord Elrond, King Thranduil, Legolas, Gandalf, and the Orc Spawn with Míriel came forward.

“Beorn, may I present King Thranduil and Prince Legolas of the Woodland Realm. They’ve traveled from their cavern just to meet you.”

“Beorn,” both the king and prince offered bows, which Beorn accepted gravely with a nod of his own.

“You know Lord Elrond and Gandalf, of course; and Tethrandil, Lindir, Rhiannel, and Giriel. And here is Tauriel with Míriel.”

“Bee,” Míriel chirped, waving at the giant.

“Yes, I am the beekeeper,” the giant agreed, holding out his hand. Tauriel put Míriel down, and our daughter toddled forward without hesitation. The giant’s eyes widened in surprise as he bent down to pick her up. “And you are no longer a babe.”

“Up.”

The giant stretched his arms up until Míriel was high over his head, looking around in delight. She held her arms out to wave them wide, and kicked her feet.

“Bird!”

With a great laugh, the giant lowered Míriel and gave her a long look from his arms. “You are still a warrior, not afraid of anything.” He turned to the king, the prince, the lord, and the wizard. “We will talk now.”

The supper was well underway by now, and so tales by the fire went on late into the night. I didn’t care if I’d be sleepy tomorrow for staying up late tonight; it was good to see Beorn again, and hear the tales of his lands in between the tales of an evil alchemist and poisoned gold.

Beorn came with us in the morning as we headed west. We reached the Old Ford in the afternoon, where the Woodland Elves would leave us to visit with Beorn for a few days. There were many words of farewell, though no speeches, for we parted as friends, not emissaries of different kingdoms. Legolas and Tauriel talked for a while apart, and I didn’t intrude. I understood the parting of friends, and so this was. King Thranduil and Lord Elrond also spent time apart from the rest. There was respect and consideration in their bearing as I watched them, and I would have said they had become good friends. They were the only ones who understood the burdens they both bore as rulers, as generals, as stewards of their folk, and perhaps it had done them both good to share those burdens with each other. I know they regretted parting, for neither expected to meet the other again.

 

* * *

 

_“I am sorry that you must leave, Lord Elrond. What with the machinations of alchemists and the evil of dragon’s gold, we did not have as much time merely to talk as I would have liked.”_

_“I have the same regret, Thranduil. Would that our kingdoms were closer, so that we might visit more often, even to share a game of chess. It is a rare pleasure to take counsel with another who bears the same duties.”_

_“I have valued your wise counsel, my lord, and am grateful to you for purging Finlor’s poison from my cavern. I feel as if I breathe freely again for the first time in a very long time.”_

_“You are most welcome. We are all well rid of Finlor, and of the dragon’s gold. I am grateful to you for standing so firmly with me to end both of them.”_

_“You will send the letters we discussed, as you learn more of the dark lord’s shadow?”_

_“I will. Keep your lands strong, Thranduil, for I fear that the future will ask much of all of us, and we will need your strength.”_

_“Hold Imladris firmly, too. As I hear of news, I will send it on to you at once.”_

_The two lords clasped arms. “It is time for farewell, then.”_

_“Sadly so. I have learned much from you, Lord Elrond, and your irreverent Orc Spawn.”_

_The high lord laughed. “I have learned much from them, as well, and will certainly continue to do so. I hope you find your own such.”_

_“I will look for them. Take good care of my captain of the guards, and her audacious husband. If anyone can get the old road repaired, it will be he.”_

_“And his mother. May you one day have the pleasure of meeting Lady Dís. She is a strong counselor, a firm and honest ally, and well worth knowing. But she will also make you appreciate her son’s flexibility.”_

_“The king of Erebor has already so favored me. I hope Kíli can mitigate some of his kin’s more belligerent tendencies as they pass through Imladris.”_

_“So do I,” the high lord admitted frankly. “Thranduil, you have my best wishes.”_

_“As you have mine, my lord, and my deepest thanks. Go safely, with the Valar’s blessings.”_

 

* * *

 

“It saddens me to see you leave,” Legolas murmured. He put his hands on my arms and squeezed lightly. “It has been my great pleasure to see you happy, and to know that you have made a happy home in Imladris. But I cannot but regret that your happy home is not in our Woodland Realm.”

I looked down at my boots. “My leaving is not your fault, Legolas. It has never been your fault. You have suffered almost as much in the cavern as I, being shut away. I hope that now that will begin to change, and the Woodland Realm can take its place in the world again.”

“You speak of the world and the Woodland Realm, but not of yourself.”

I sighed. “Because there is no place for me in the Woodland Realm now, Legolas. Not because I was banished. I was buried for too long there. I am in the world now, and that is where I belong. All I regret is that you seem to blame yourself for some part of my leaving. I assure you that you were are good friend to me, and you still are. Do not regret on my behalf. I am alive, I am happy. I hope only that you find your own happiness, however and whenever it comes.”

Legolas looked away, then met my eyes with a smile. “If I find even a fraction of the happiness that has come to you, Tauriel, then I will be well blessed. Whatever happens, whenever it happens, know that I will always welcome you back to the trees.”

“And I will always welcome you to Imladris, Legolas, however and whenever you choose to visit.”

We hugged. It was the most overt sign of affection that Legolas had ever shown me. “ _Tenna' ento lye omenta, otorno.”_

 _“Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au, osellë,”_ was Legolas’s whispered reply.

I managed to hold back my tears until he turned away.

 

* * *

 

As I had no profound goodbyes to make, I took Míriel to see Beorn. We stood silently off to one side, watching the Elves take their parting for some moments.

“How is the weather over the mountains?” I asked at last. “Will we make it across, or will we have to beg you for tent space in your meadow until spring?”

Beorn considered. “It is late, but perhaps not too late, if you are lucky. The winds have been light, and the snow even on the peaks is not too much. But if you are unlucky, you will have your tent space. I will welcome another to chop wood.”

I laughed quietly. “I’m always ready to lay about with my axe. It’s more of a pleasure with company.”

“I have come to value that, if the company is the right kind.”

“What kind is that?”

“Little talking, and more chopping.”

I chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Oh, Tethrandil tells me that the king plays chess. So give him a game or two.”

Beorn nodded. “He is still the pale king, but not so cold.”

“Those trinkets didn’t do him any good at all. But they’re gone now, and Lord Elrond’s taught him a lot, so he’s come around.”

Beorn offered me a glance. “To the good.”

“To the good. There, it looks like they’re done. Beorn, I’m sorry to take my leave of you. All good fortune to you.”

“And to you.” He shook my hand gravely, and put his huge hand gently atop Míriel’s head for a moment. “And to you, also, my little brave one.”

We walked back to the group of Elves, many mounting their horses and falling in line, one group heading west, and the other north. Tauriel was still with Legolas, so I headed for the Orc Spawn to get one of them to help me settle Míriel on my back. To my surprise, King Thranduil came seeking me through the back and forth.

“May your travels home be safe and swift, Kíli,” he offered, extending his hand to me. I was surprised, but nevertheless grasped it in a firm grip.

“And yours, too, my lord. I will remember my time in your kingdom with pleasure, despite all the mayhem, because it all came out all right in the end.”

“We may see each other again as you work on the road for your folk. If so, I look forward to it. If not, then I will regret it, but will have good memories of your visit. And of you, too, Miri. Perhaps the next time we meet, you will be riding the pony your Ada wants for you.”

“Kiss?”

The king gravely bent down to brush a light kiss on the top of Míriel’s head. But she squirmed and waved her hands. “No, no, Thran. Miri kiss.”

“Ah, I see.” I would not have believed it unless I’d seen it with my own eyes, but the king of the Woodland Realm stooped down, bent his cheek to my bairn, and let her push her lips against his pale skin. It wasn’t too messy of one, and she backed away to give him a critical eye. “Thank you, Miri.”

“Thran. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

The king looked up at me but I absolutely did not crack a smile. So he did. “Goodbye, Ambassador Kíli.”

I allowed myself a little smile. “Goodbye, King Thranduil. And thank you for being kind to my wee bairn.”

“She is almost as audacious as her father,” he observed with an arched eyebrow and a slight bow, and moved on.

I hoped he was out of earshot when I let out a giggle. I picked up Míriel and looked her in the eye. “Do you know that you just ordered a king around, Miri? I bet he hasn’t let anyone do that in a thousand years!”

I would have a tale to tell Tauriel tonight, when we were in our blankets.

The goodbyes were at last done. Tauriel and Legolas were the last ones afoot, so Rhiannel and Giriel helped me settle Míriel on my back. At last, my wife and her friend hugged, and separated to find their horses. I had Jalsin’s reins for her, so she took them from me and mounted in silence. Despite her stoic expression, her eyes were wet.

“We’ll see him again,” I murmured, as the lines formed. “Don’t despair.”

She continued to look ahead, but I saw the tears on her cheek. This was only the sadness of parting from a friend, nothing more, but it was still a sore trial for my warrior maid. She’d had few close friends during her centuries in the Woodland Realm, but Legolas had been one of them. In between dealing with magic trinkets and dragon’s gold, Tauriel and Legolas had eased the strain that had come between them during the battle for Erebor, and were once again in accord. To part as friends was always harder than to part as enemies, so I silently sympathized with them both.

As if Tauriel heard my sentiments, her expression eased as some of her sadness faded into appreciation for my comfort. “I hope so.”

There was a single moment more where the folk of Imladris and the Woodland Realm mingled, and then they separated. Beorn stood beside the king’s horse, and held his hand up to us. We waved our farewells, as did the Elves beside Beorn. Then we turned west-northwest, and didn’t look back.

The Misty Mountains lay forty miles ahead of us.

 

* * *

 

In two days, we reached one of the few mountain passes up the eastern slopes of the Misty Mountains. Today would be the day we found out whether we’d make it over the heights, or be forced back down onto Beorn’s plain. If all went well, we’d be up and over– and home! – in a few days. If not, we’d be living in a tent through the winter, tantalizingly close to home, but with no way to reach it until spring. Gandalf took the lead, and after a quick breakfast, up we went.

The air had a decided chill as we threaded our way between the first foothills. Míriel was bundled in her furry Warg coat, leggings, and boots, and well swaddled against my chest. She was puzzled by the tight confinement that left her unable to see much but my chest, but I thought she’d be better protected there than on my back. As the path steepened, I sang quietly to her to keep her interested, smiling now and again as she repeated a word or warbled her own tune.

It was a hard balance to keep as we moved up the pass, trying to move quickly, yet also maneuvering safely on the treacherous rock faces. This first day was crucial, because we needed to reach the highest part of the pass and atop the ridge of the mountains, then around the stony peak beyond which the lay the high path that traced southwest to Imladris. Eighty miles remained until we reached the city, but the first twenty were the most critical, because they were the most difficult. All of us spent too much time staring up at the sky, for the higher we rose, the closer the clouds seemed to hover, and the more the winds seemed to swirl.

It seemed that we would be forever climbing up the pass, but eventually all thirty-six of our horses scrambled onto the top of the ridge. A stony peak rose tantalizingly before us; only three miles beyond it lay the flatter, wider path that would take us down the western side of the mountains and on to Imladris. But dusk was falling, and footing was too precarious for us to venture farther in the dark. There was no room to pitch our tents, so we hunkered down as best we could on the path, the horses muffled in blankets, and the rest of us huddled together to share body heat and blankets. Even though Míriel had been swaddled with me or Tauriel all day, she sat between us well enough, though she did not like Tauriel exposing her skin to the cold to change her diaper. I didn’t blame her; just baring enough of me to piss over the edge of the path was uncomfortable. Food and water passed from hand to hand down the line, until everyone a handful of _lembas_ to nibble on. We gathered close, and combined our blankets to make a thick barrier against the cold. It was not a comfortable campsite for any of us, but I probably had more reason to smile about it than anyone else in our company. Tauriel and Míriel pressed close on my left, and Giriel, with Rhiannel beyond her, was on my right. There were worse places to be than pressed tightly against two beautiful Elf maids.

I woke during the night to the sound of howling winds, and the sting of ice whipping against my cheeks. The air was much colder, as well. Had we gotten so close, only three miles from easier ground, only to have a raft of snow and ice block us at the gate? Míriel shivered and whined at the cold, so I pulled her into my lap. Tauriel and Giriel pressed closer, too, trying to take advantage of my higher body temperature to ease their shivers. We tucked the blankets more securely around us, and waited for dawn to see how bad the ice and snow was.

Dawn came, however, long before we saw anything. When we could, it was a daunting sight, cast entirely in shades of white and whiter. Ice and snow lay in drifts around us, and a fair bit more was in the air, most of it blowing horizontally in a blustery gale. It was clear that we wouldn’t move on yet. We packed the drifting snow into a barrier between us and the outside edge of the path, hoping to build a bit of a windbreak. It soon grew into a bigger one as the snow continued to descend upon us. I couldn’t see down the line to judge how the rest of our company fared, but enough of our company was alert to send food and water from hand to hand as before.

Poor Míriel was miserable. Changing her diaper was a trauma that made her shriek in the cold, and it took a long time to warm her once she was redressed. I shrugged out of my armor to put her directly against my skin, wincing at how cold her hands were, even when covered with the furred mitts attached to the sleeves of her furry coat. Giriel and Tauriel were still pressed hard against my sides, but despite their closeness I felt the cold, and could only imagine how badly they felt. Míriel clung to my chest like a limpet, and I sang softly to soothe her, as if anything could in such numbing cold. If this gale lasted several days, we would all freeze solid to the side of the mountain.

I wished the wind would die a little, for it would be much more bearable. But as if the gale heard me, it rose even higher. It was literal cold comfort to know that while we couldn’t go forward, we couldn’t go back, either. Only when the wind and snow stopped would we know whether we still had a chance to cross the mountains, or be forced to turn back.

Blessedly, the gale quieted at dusk. It was too dark to move forward or back, but at least the lessening of the wind meant we stayed a bit warmer through the night.

Daylight finally arrived so quietly as to seem abashed at the trouble we’d endured. The sky was still cloudy and glowed with a pale, pearly cast that had nothing of fall and everything of deep winter about it. As the light slowly waxed, we took stock of ourselves. Scouts went forward and backward on our path to survey our chances for progress or retreat, and the rest of us scrabbled another cold meal and saw to each other.

Several of the Elves had suffered from exposure to the cold, even though huddled together under blankets, and would have to be helped to reach a point where their horses could carry them. Some of the horses were also in poor straits, and had trouble rising on the path. I didn’t want to watch the effort for the horses; if any of them couldn’t rise, the only alternative would be to shove them off the path and down the mountain to free the way for the rest of the company. I’d spent many years as a young lad with the nomad horsemen of the northwestern steppe tending ponies and horses, and also with drovers who herded ponies between pastures and markets, and I loved them as much as anyone could. To send one of our Elvish steeds to such a terrible death would break my heart.

Imagine how I felt when word passed that Trellennan, my devoted companion, was one of those who could not rise.

“Take Míriel, Tauriel,” I asked my wife, passing her our bairn. “I can’t let someone else cut his throat and shove him over the path.”

I crawled and clambered back through the line to reach my laboring horse. He was curled on his side, as best as he could manage on the narrow path, but he perked up when I called to him. Elves had already removed his tack and baggage to help him, but he was still laboring. I went to his head to pull his forelock and rub his nose.

“Come on, you bag of bones,” I whispered to him. “We’re almost home, aren’t we? Even you ought to be able to smell home from here. Don’t make me have to slit your throat. I couldn’t bear it, Trell. Can’t you smell Imladris on the wind? It’s just another fifty miles or so. Four or five days, at the most. Please try, Trell. Come on.”

He tried to get his feet under him, and several Elves got to either side of him to help him push upright. The first time he tried, one of the Elves slipped, and nearly fell down the mountain. We just barely grabbed him in time to haul him back up. So we tried again, me talking to Trellennan to hearten him. He got to his knees, then floundered to find purchase on the ice, but was too weak. He shook with the effort, and his eyes rolled in fear. I got his mane in hand, and called to him one last time.

“Come on, Trell!” I yelled, hauling for all I was worth on Trellennan’s mane. “Get up, _mellon nin_! Up!”

It was a most inelegant mashup of thrashing and wheezing and pushing, and Trellennan lost some of his beautiful mane to the Dwarf hauling on it, but all at once my horse threw his head forward and heaved himself up. His legs were splayed, and his head was down, but he was on his feet! I praised him with cheers and rubs, and his lungs labored as if he’d run for days, but he stayed upright. I was still not sure whether he’d be able to take a step either forward or back, but we had much work to do before that mattered. Four horses were still down, and five Elves were still being tended. I stayed with Trellennan to keep him up, and Tauriel came slowly down the line to see to Jalsin. The mare was fine, so I took Míriel from Tauriel and wrapped her against my chest, because our bairn would be happy to burble to Trellennan to keep him animated.

Thank the Valar, all the horses eventually got to their feet. They were not fit to be ridden, but as the path was still too icy and snow-clogged for that, it didn’t matter. I breathed a sigh of relief and craned my neck, looking for Lord Elrond. The high lord and Gandalf were well, and talking to the scouts.

“Hope for progress forward, and not retreat,” I murmured to Trellennan, stroking his cheek, and he nickered to me as if he understood.

Before long word came down that we would try to push forward. We had to dig ourselves a path whether going forward or back, so we lost nothing if we went forward. We needed to dig ourselves out before the end of the day, or we’d have to spend another night on the exposed mountainside, which some horses and Elves might not survive. So our motivation was high to dig with vigor.

I expected to be asked to be the forefront of the diggers. I bore the cold better, and I was better suited to the heavy labor of digging than the slender Elves, so I passed Míriel back to Tauriel and took hold of the shovel that passed up the line to me. I had scouts ahead of me to judge the path and tell me which way to dig, and a pair of Elves behind me to widen the narrow track that I traced, and more behind them to further widen the way. We didn’t worry about making a wide way at first, only to make a narrow one around the exposed peak to safety. It took a long time to make that, as it was at least two miles to flatter space. But I kept at it, and once we had the first thin path made, we sent more Elves to widen it while I wolfed down a much needed meal. Afternoon was dangerously close to fading into twilight when we had something barely wide enough for our horses, but we didn’t have time to do more. We crept forward, leading our horses, carrying the Elves unable to walk, and hoped our efforts had been enough.

By the time the last horses came down the path, we needed lanterns to see our steps, but we were out of the worst of it. The path widened and fell a short distance, then took an upward jag again, and in the slight bottom Helmia and the able guardsmen had packed down the snow enough for us to pitch a few of the tents and make a place for the horses to stand. As the Orc Spawn’s tent was one of the bigger ones, we put it up and crammed as many Elves into it as we could – we likely had a full dozen inside, or maybe one or two more. We left a lot of the baggage outside in piles, where it would likely freeze, but no matter. We were under cover, and much warmer with all the body heat, and we ate and rested in relative comfort. Míriel was exhausted, but was glad of the warmth as she stretched her limbs in between all the Elves beside her. I drifted off in a haze of exhaustion.

Morn came too quickly, but everyone wanted to get out of the snow as quickly as we could. I snatched journey bread and hard cheese and jerked meat for breakfast. Míriel had to make do with Tauriel’s milk and some bread. We packed in haste while the scouts went out, and by the time they returned with our path, we were ready to go.

In theory, the path was wide enough for us to ride. But footing was treacherous, and the horses slipped enough that no one wanted to risk falling. So we stretched out into a long line, leading our horses one by one through the snow and ice. Trellennan was better, and we were unstinting with their rations to help them as best we could. Our progress was slow, but I didn’t complain – it was still progress towards home. The miles crept by with painful slowness, but the sky cleared of clouds, and the sun appeared, and despite the dazzle of its light on the snow, it did help to clear the path a bit.

The hardest thing to endure was my own impatience. I wanted so badly to reach home, but to do so I had to carefully place one foot ahead of the other with the utmost care. Still, the closer we got to home, the easier my steps became. The ice lessened, and the snow was not so deep, and the path was wider and more even. In six days, we were laughing and smiling again, because we knew we would reach home. Even if it snowed again, we would still reach home.

When we finally got our first glimpse of Imladris, a cheer went up. We hugged each other, and jumped up and down, and gazed upon the most beautiful sight we’d seen since we left with more excitement than was seemly. But no one thought about propriety at such a moment.

Before long, the snow was so little and the path so wide that we were able to mount our horses. Trellennan was sound, so I climbed atop him with a grateful word, and took my place beside Tauriel and Míriel on Jalsin. Though all of us wanted to race the last miles, we loved our horses too much to ask that of them. They had worked hard to get through the snow, and were as depleted as we were. Even so, we would reach our home in midafternoon.

When we finally drew near to the gates of the city, Helmia sent up the trumpet call, and we came down the last few yards of the path and paced wearily into the city. Elves ran to meet us as we headed to the stables, and there was a lot of singing and rejoicing when the city’s denizens realized that Lord Elrond was back in residence. The excitement overflowed the stables as hands ran to take horses and unpack baggage and see to the Elves who had suffered the most in the cold. Tauriel called to me to see to Trellennan first, so I gave her Míriel and took my brave horse into his stall to set him right. The stabler would see to him after me, but for now, I untacked him, brushed him clean, saw to his hooves, and fetched him a good measure of grain and fresh water. I made much of him as he dove into his rations, then found Tauriel who waited on Jalsin. I took Míriel so she could tend her mare with as much care as I’d lavished on Trellennan, and headed outside so Míriel could walk without being in the way of the stable bustle.

“Well, my little jewel, we are home, and tonight we will be in our own house again! We’ll have our own kitchen, and maybe we can make a crumble. How would that be?”

“Bewy cumble?” Míriel looked up in bright anticipation.

“It might have to be apple,” I conceded. “It might have to be cake. We’ll have to see what’s left in the larder.”

“Cake,” Míriel nodded, as if that would be acceptable. I giggled, and toddled behind her towards the heap of baggage to see if I could sort out our things from the mass. Teth was there ahead of me, and together we pulled out as much of the Orc Spawn’s things as we could identify. Before long, Rhiannel came out, and after him, Lindir. We sorted out the last bags as Giriel appeared with Tauriel.

“Oh, Valar, we are home at last!” Giriel exclaimed. “Is this all our things?”

“I think we found them all,” Rhiannel considered.

“Oh, there’s the bag with all of Míriel’s presents in it,” Tauriel pointed, and pulled it out of the heap. “That’s the last of ours.”

“Then let’s go home!” I said. “Supper in the round, or would you rather savor your own company?”

“In the round, for me,” Giriel said. “Who knows what’s left in our larder, and if I don’t have to trek down to the market today, that would be a blessing. Lindir, please come if you’d like, too. Your larder is likely even barer than ours.”

“What is this supper in the round?” the aide asked curiously.

“It’s what the Orc Spawn always seems to end up doing when we get home from an adventure,” Tauriel explained with a smile. “None of us ever have enough for a full meal, but we all have something, and so we make what we have and everyone ends up full. So yes, please join us, if you’re not sick of the sight of us.”

“I am not sick at the sight of you,” the aide said shyly. “You have all been the best of friends.”

“Then come!” Giriel grinned. “You’re an Orc Spawn now, and besides, we have to discuss your tattoo!”

Lindir sighed. “I’d hoped you’d forgotten that.”

Rhiannel laughed. “No luck when Giriel’s involved. But come to supper in the round anyway. I will see that Giriel does not pester you about the tattoo.”

“I will. When?”

“Whenever the silence gets to be too much for you. We’ll be about,” Teth assured him. “If supper isn’t ready when you come, we can have a glass of wine and a quiet game of chess.”

“I’ll see whatever I have to bring for supper, and see you soon, then.”

“Good lad!” I cheered. “See you soon!”

With a wave, Lindir shouldered his bags and headed off into the heart of the city where his rooms were. The rest of us piled ourselves so high with baggage that I felt like a pack pony, and set off for home in silence. I’d always found it a bit overwhelming to come down the last street, and catch the first glimpse of our shared courtyard with its fountain. It had been two months since I’d seen it last, when summer’s flowers had cascaded around the basin in floods of reds and yellows and whites, with tendrils of mint and thyme spreading between the paving stones around it. Today, it was just warm enough for the fountain to be flowing, and there was only a flower or two in bloom, and the mint and thyme were browning. It still brought a lump to my throat. We were home. We came together to stand by the fountain with a collective sigh of relief.

Giriel dropped her bags beside her and went to Drennal and Fallin’s door to knock on it loudly. In a few seconds, a very pregnant Drennal appeared, astonished at the sight of us.

“The Orc Spawn have arrived, _osellë_ ,” Giriel said with an elegant bow. “We thought you would like to know.”

“Oh, Valar, you made it back in time!” Drennal looked as if she were about to cry. She turned back inside. “Fallin! They’re back! All of them!”

The leader of the Orc Spawn appeared behind his _a’maelamin_ at a scamper, his jaw dropping in surprise as Drennal hugged Giriel and Tauriel hard. “Giriel! Tauriel! By the Valar, you _are_ back! You are well? Kíli! Did you make your treaties? And Rhiannel and Teth – you all look exhausted! Is Lord Elrond well? We were sure you’d have to stay east of the mountains because it was so late in the year. What happened?”

The rest of us had drawn up behind Giriel and Tauriel to greet our friends. Giriel pointed to Míriel. “The most important thing that happened is this. Show Auntie Drennal and Uncle Fallin, Miri. Show them what you can do now.”

When I put Míriel down on her feet, she toddled straight into the house. I scampered behind her and caught her up. “No, this isn’t our house, Míriel. This one belongs to Auntie Drennal and Uncle Fallin. Ours is across the way.”

“She’s walking? This is our Míriel? She’s not a babe now!” Drennal gasped, holding her stomach.

“She looks like a Warg,” Fallin said in an aside to me, drawing my laughter.

“That’s what I think, too! Anyway, we’re back, and we’ll unpack a bit and wash a lot, and then we’re going to scrounge for supper in the round. Will you come? Lindir’s coming, too.”

“Lindir? The bookworm?” Fallin exclaimed.

“He’s not quite so much of a bookworm now,” Giriel said. “He’s done us proud. So proud that we’ve made him one of the Orc Spawn. Just wait to hear all he’s done! He’s a _kurvanog_ hero!”

“Let us unpack and wash first, Giriel!” Tauriel pleaded. “I am dying for a bath, and Kíli reeks, and Míriel reeks even more. I want a long soak and a glass of wine before supper. We will tell Drennal and Fallin all then.”

“Of course we’ll come! The rest of you won’t have much in your larders anyway, so we’ll put on something hearty!” Fallin exclaimed. “Supper here in two hours!”

“Done, and done!” Rhiannel agreed. “All of you, happy scrubbing, and soon to be happy supper!”

We scattered in a chorus of good-byes.

Finally, finally! It was time for Tauriel, Míriel, and me walk into our house. Our home. I eased open the door, and Míriel toddled past me as I went back to tote in our things with Tauriel. We left the bags in the hallway, then Tauriel trotted after Míriel to fetch her before disaster struck. I looked around at our home, at the hooks on the hallway wall waiting to hold my armor, which I proceeded to put to use. My boots went in their accustomed spot under the bench. My bow and quiver went on one hook and my coat and gloves on others. I was too foul to put on my house boots, so I padded into the kitchen barefooted to start the stove. Then I lit the furnace to warm the bathwater. There was little dust anywhere; Fallin and Drennal had kept things well swept while we’d been away. I went into the garden, my favorite part of our house, already noting the beds that needed tidying and the leaves that needed sweeping, but those would be welcome chores in a day or so. I fetched the bag that held King Thranduil’s potted plants, set the three pots in a warm spot, and tucked the packets of seeds in my pocket to cache inside until I could plant them. I turned on the fountain, and went back to the kitchen for a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses. I set them on the garden table just as Míriel came trotting to my side. She was out of her Warg suit, stripped down to a diaper and a long tunic to keep her warm until we could get her in the tub.

“Tada!”

“Hullo, Miri! Welcome home! You wasted no time getting comfortable, did you? Do you remember our home? We were gone so long that I wouldn’t fault you if you’ve forgotten. But we’ll be home for a good long time, this time, and you’ll remember it again fast enough.”

“I knew this would be where you came first,” Tauriel’s amused voice wafted out to me. “You’ve set out the king’s pots already, I see.”

“I lit the stove and the furnace first, I’ll have you know. I want a hot scrub just as much as you do.”

“Ugh,” Tauriel shivered. “Do not remind me of how grimy I feel. It’s chill in here, but I think I’d rather put up with that than the feel of grimy clothes against my skin.”

“Then strip off, maid. I’ve already started myself. It won’t take long for the furnace to be ready. In the mean time, have a glass of wine while I fetch some cheese. There’s still some of that in the larder.”

Tauriel took the glass with a hum of anticipation. “What else is left that we can take for supper?”

I carried my glass of wine with me, sipping as I surveyed the shelves. “Cheese – two kinds. A bin of sprouted potatoes – nothing good there. Little else, I’m afraid. There’s flour and soda, and if I beg a bit of milk from Drennal, I can make Bilbo’s biscuits. We can have either cheese in the biscuits, or cheese on a plate to go with the biscuits. Or both. Which would you prefer?”

Before Tauriel could answer, a terrific crash came from the kitchen. I darted out of the larder with my glass in one hand, and the plate of cheese in the other, to see Míriel surveying the pans she’d pulled off their shelves in the kitchen. She was about to reach for a large pottery bowl full of apples. I kept hold of my glass, but slid the plate over the table as I dove for our bairn.

“No, Míriel! Don’t touch that! Oh, Valar, maid, you’ll dump the whole thing out –!”

I got to Míriel just as she put hands on the bowl, but she was large enough now that I could only grab her with my free hand; I couldn’t free her hands from the rim of the bowl. Tauriel scampered in to see me trying to keep Míriel from yanking the bowl over, but already fruit was spilling out and rolling everywhere. Tauriel grabbed my wine glass, and I grabbed Míriel’s hand to free it from the bowl. Míriel looked at me in confusion.

“Cumble?”

I snorted, but Tauriel giggled. “She’s right, Kíli. You could make apple crumble instead of biscuits.”

“Bruised apple crumble,” I shook my head, giving Míriel a stern look. “You’re going to be a right trial with this walking business, I can tell. Come on, the furnace has had a good long time to warm. Let’s have a scrub.”

“Not a moment too soon, either,” Tauriel observed, setting our wine glasses aside.

 

* * *

 

Much later, after the luxury of a scrub, the heady scent of apple crumble baking, and the warmth of supper shared with our friends, Tauriel and I came home to rest. We were truly home now. We were clean, well fed, glowing with so much laughter among friends, and it was time to go back to normal life, whatever that was. We’d renewed our friendship with Fallin and Drennal again; little had changed for them during our time away, and we would all be in residence when Drennal had her babe in another few weeks. Míriel had run between her friends so much during supper that she was well cross-eyed and all but limp as I tucked her into her cradle with Troli’s doll. Tauriel was still chuckling about Lindir blushing as red as a rose when Giriel spun the tale of the aide’s efforts against Finlor into epic proportions, not that she had to exaggerate much. He’d even agreed to get the Orc Spawn tattoo, which would be the perfect excuse for another party before long. I was pleasantly relaxed after several mugs of ale and a hearty supper beside a warm fire rather than out of the snow. We sat down in our favorite chairs in our sitting room before the fire, and sipped a last glass, wine for Tauriel and ale for me.

“We have a lot to do tomorrow, _a’maelamin_ ,” Tauriel murmured, staring gently into the fire.

“What first? Cleaning, I suppose.”

“We have a lot of clothes to clean,” Tauriel conceded. “And a little dust to wipe away. The market, first and foremost. Then you need to get busy with one of your hammers.”

“Do I? I didn’t see anything broken. Is it something in the garden?”

“Nothing’s broken, though only by the merest chance. We need some gates, or something, to keep Míriel out of trouble. Out of the larder, and the kitchen. The dining room, too, I think.”

I snorted. “That’s no lie. I told you life would be over as we knew it once she started to walk, and I was right.”

Tauriel chuckled as she swallowed the last of her wine. “In some ways, perhaps. But not all of them. Our rampaging little Warg is completely entranced for the moment, and I think that is something not to be wasted. I wonder what a dark Dwarf thinks about that?”

I upended my mug to drain it, wiped my sleeve across my lips, and jumped up to pull Tauriel out of her chair. “I think that’s a fine idea. Should I pillage you here, or carry you to the bedchamber and do it there?”

“Either would be delightful. Or both.”

It was hard to tell which of us swept the other one into an embrace first. It hardly mattered, considering all that happened after, first before the fire in the sitting room, and then much later in our bedchamber. We started with wild and passionate, flew on to teasing and tempting, and ended with tender and romantic. It was a most satisfying homecoming.

Míriel, thank the Valar, was quiet throughout.

 

* * *

 

EPILOGUE

 

Life returned to the rhythm Kili and I had come to love. We had a few days before we went back to the guard, so we scrubbed our house, restocked our larder, tidied the garden, washed our clothing. Kíli planted the plants and seeds that King Thranduil had given him, and we spent many moments speculating on what would rise in the spring from the tangled roots, bare stalks, and wrinkled seeds. Míriel became as much of a terror on two feet as a certain dark-haired Dwarfling must have been. Dís would laugh to see how easily it was for Míriel to reduce Kíli to exasperation and laughter, and think it proper payment for how Kíli had deviled her. We had to put up gates to keep her out of the worst trouble in the larder and kitchen, but she was still not one to be left out of sight for long.

Lindir surprised us all and sat for his tattoo, the little Warg rider on his right wrist. It was not a Dwarf who made the mark for him, but a Man, but he was as skilled as Níri, and it took only a few moments before our _otorno_ was an Orc Spawn in more than name. We cheered him with wine to go with his traditional mug of ale; what he didn’t pour over his wrist went down Kíli’s throat, as it was not to Lindir’s taste. Lindir was justly proud of that small Warg rider, for it stood for more than the wounds he’d taken. It also stood for shared hardship, shared duty, and shared friendship.

Drennal bore her babe to full term, a son they named Valindor. Fallin was beside himself with both pride and wonder. Kíli knew exactly how that felt, and was quick to celebrate with our comrade.

“You will not be the only two proud Tadas for long,” Giriel teased, as we had one of our shared suppers. “You will have Rhiannel among you in a year.”

We all worked through that, meeting it with shouts of surprise or delighted laughter. Kíli was quick to work out something more.

“It was that _Glawar-galad_ , wasn’t it?” he accused Giriel, laughing excitedly. “It was all that coupling in a magic garden. I knew it!”

“That is as good an explanation as any,” Rhiannel smiled indulgently, but he was excited, too. “We will have a junior patrol of Orc Spawn before long.”

“So there’s only one more loose end to tie up about the Woodland Realm,” Kíli said. “We unmade the trinkets, we killed the alchemist, we got rid of the dragon’s gold, and we made the bairn. But what about that ring of invisibility? Gandalf took it, didn’t he? What did he do with it?”

“You may never know the answer to that,” Tethrandil shook his head wisely. “The ways of wizards are their own, and they answer to no one. Not even Lord Elrond may know the end of that tale.”

That met with general agreement.

“But there’s still one more mystery from the Woodland Realm, Kíli,” Drennal pointed out, cradling little Valindor.

“There is? What is it then?” Kíli asked.

“You still don’t know what plants King Thranduil gave you,” Drennal said. “You won’t know until spring.”

In fact, it was almost summer before that mystery was resolved. The seeds sprouted into a quartet of herbs, all delicious in the kitchen. The plant in one of the pots became a beautiful vine that bore tiny blue flowers. The second pot turned into a sturdy bush with flowers shaped like small, flat cups of white spotted with red. But it was the third pot that gave us the true end of the saga.

It was a dreamflower.

 

# # #

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all of you,
> 
> I am very grateful to all of you for reading along with me as we traveled with our friends to the Woodland Realm and back. You have been wonderful, and unstinting with your encouragement, excitement, and appreciation. There will be more stories coming with our favorite dark Dwarf and fiery Elf warrior maid, and we'll also head out to the northern steppes with young Fili and Kili. So I hope to hear from you as we go off on more adventures. Thanks so much!
> 
> You are the best!


End file.
